


for we are a woven thread; find the strand

by shadowsong26



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Artoo - Freeform, Bo-Katan Kryze - Freeform, F/M, Hondo Ohnaka - Freeform, Luke & Leia - Freeform, M/M, Multi, also ft. appearances from, and Threepio, and some v. bleak thoughts verging on suicidal ideation, as this opens with order 66, not compliant with TCW S7, warnings for genocide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:35:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 56,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23999860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsong26/pseuds/shadowsong26
Summary: The night before Obi-Wan was to leave for Utapau, he and Anakin and Padme agreed that, regardless of the Council's orders, Anakin should go as well. They split up over the course of the battle--and when Order 66 is given, they cannot find one another in the chaos; Padme, on Coruscant, is left with the knowledge that neither of them is coming back.This story covers the next four years in their lives; how they survived and coped with the loss; how they began to fight back--and how they found their way home.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Padmé Amidala & Sabé, Padmé Amidala/Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, anakin skywalker & caleb dume
Comments: 264
Kudos: 323
Collections: Star Wars Big Bang 2020





	1. Part 1: 19 BBY, Chapter 1: Anakin

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was planned/largely written before S7 of Clone Wars started airing, and does not take any of those episodes into account. Title comes from Vienna Teng’s Breaking Light. Many thanks to [@Corde_And_Dorme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corde_And_Dorme/pseuds/Corde_And_Dorme) for all of the help as a very excellent beta, and [@Jahaliel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jahaliel/pseuds/Jahaliel) for the amazing [artwork!](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/swbb2020/works/23945911)

When the shooting started, Anakin had been in one of the wells, below the city. Clearing out nests of battle droids, for the most part; he’d gotten ahead of the squad that had come down with him as backup, so when the shift came--

He didn’t remember dodging, but he must have; he’d been _just_ in range, which had probably saved him; but the Force was erratic, screaming around him, and he didn’t know what was happening. All he knew was he had to _run._

It took him--it took him a few moments to get clear of his pursuers, to get deep enough into the well and have half a second to breathe and get his bearings, but all he could hear or feel was the screaming.

He couldn’t even--he couldn’t even find _Obi-Wan_ in the chaos, and there was _so much death--_

He closed his eyes, took a breath, tried to reach out for him; at this distance, he wouldn’t be able to sense Padme, but Obi-Wan was on the same planet and they could _always_ find each other, when they were that close.

Nothing. Just chaos and death and a horrible feeling that everything--that the entire galaxy had just collapsed around him.

And buried in it all, a whisper, urging him-- _come home, come home, come home._

He recoiled from the thought, from the needle-sharp _triumph_ underpinning each word, each echo through his head, and he knew. _He knew._

Who it was.

What it wanted.

What he had almost _become._

Today hadn’t started that way, which almost made it _worse._ This _morning,_ at least, had been good. Different.

He and Obi-Wan had arrived in the Utapau system without incident--if the Council had called to yell at them for sneaking away like this, Anakin hadn’t been in on that call--and if he still hadn’t managed to sleep, he’d at least felt centered, with a straightforward mission ahead of him. Something he could _do._ Something he could _fight._

He was _good_ at fighting.

He’d had no idea-- _no idea_ \--what was to come, and now…

_I should have known. I should have_ seen it.

It was too late. It was too late, and the Force was screaming and he couldn’t find Obi-Wan and Padme--

_Maybe this is how it happens,_ he thought. _We left her, we_ both _left her, alone and unprotected, and now this…_

He didn’t know. That was the real problem here, he didn’t _know._

He wasn’t sure how long he’d stayed there, drowning in his own head, but that thought snapped him out of it. Out of his spiral, at least enough to move.

_Intel,_ he thought. _Whatever I do, I need to know what’s really going on, if this…_

He didn’t want to think--couldn’t _bear_ to think--but a part of him knew that Utapau alone wouldn’t _scream_ this loud.

Once he knew what was going on, he could put together a better plan, to find Obi-Wan and get back home to Padme.

_come home, come home, come home._

He ignored that echoing thought, pushed it aside to focus on the tangible, achievable task at hand.

He always did better when he had one of those.

_Obi-Wan first,_ he decided. _Because I can’t leave without at least_ trying _to find him, besides, we planned for this, maybe not this specific time, but we have a_ plan _for this._

Taking that time might make all the difference for Padme--for Obi-Wan--for _either_ of them--but he couldn’t _lose--_

Both of them.

_Obi-Wan is here,_ Anakin said. _And even if I left right now, it’d take me at_ least _a day or two to get back, between finding a ship with a decent enough hyperdrive, and transit to Coruscant, and…_

He had to at least _try_ to find Obi-Wan before moving on. He was pretty sure Padme would agree with him, if she were here.

_Of course, Obi-Wan would tell me the exact opposite: get clear of this, go home, make sure she’s safe…_

It would be funny, if it weren’t so...what it was.

But before he could do _that,_ he needed more information. And _that_ meant he had to go find one of the men shooting at him, and gain access to the GAR comm system.

* * *

It had been easier than he thought.

When he’d descended into the well to handle any holdout clusters of droids hoping to harry them from below, after Obi-Wan had gotten back from killing Grievous-- _taking all the fun jobs for yourself, Master?_ he’d asked, in that teasing voice where he would’ve said ‘love’ if they hadn’t had an audience--

He hadn’t come alone. But there had been casualties. And the niche where he’d managed to hide was close, disconcertingly close, to Sergeant Jax, who’d left Kamino maybe three weeks ago; he’d been laughing and eager to please, friendly and boisterous and then shot in the neck and--gone.

Anakin approached with caution, but there were no living troopers in range that he could see or sense through the screaming _(come home come home come home)._ He removed Jax’s helmet as quickly as he could, then left the body behind, disappearing back into the shadows as best he could; dropping a few levels deeper into the well and finding an alcove where he could shelter and keep an eye on things. He fiddled with the comm for an endless thirty seconds before he got it to play.

“Felucia is secure.”

“Cato Nemoidia is secure.”

“Bistaad is--”

“Kaller is--”

“Boz Pity is--”

“--secure.”

He pulled the helmet off and tossed it at the other side of the cave, staring at it in silence.

That bell still rang out at the back of his head-- _come home, come home, come home_ \--but he knew he couldn’t.

_Maybe_ this _is how it happens,_ he thought. _I go home, I lead them there, I…_

He couldn’t go home.

_The rule is, look for twelve hours,_ he thought, tried to think, tried to come up with _some_ kind of plan. Something to keep him going, for as long as he could. _It’s only been six. So, I keep--keep searching, and then…_

And then…

_Mandalore,_ he decided. Mandalore hadn’t reported in, not that he’d heard _(and who_ gave _the order, anyway, why didn’t I_ stop this _when I had the chance, wasn’t I supposed to be--)_ and Ahsoka wasn’t a Jedi anymore, but might be _close enough_ to be targeted.

_She’ll need me,_ he thought. _If I can’t find Obi-Wan in six hours--and Padme--Padme probably isn’t in any_ more _danger than she was when I left, but Ahsoka might need me. And I can get to her. Maybe. Probably. I think._

And that was enough of a focus to pull him through. Whatever the next six hours might bring.

Or not.

_I’ll find him,_ Anakin promised himself. _He’s out there. Or we’ll rendezvous eventually, like we always--like we always do. But six more hours, and then--Mandalore._


	2. Part 1, Chapter 2: Obi-Wan

Obi-Wan lucked into a hypercapable ship, made it out of atmosphere by the skin of his teeth, and was now half a dozen short jumps away from the Utapau system. Not  _ safe, _ not yet, not by a long shot, but clear enough to take a moment and plan his next move.

And one thing, one thought, one terrible truth, kept echoing in his head.

He hadn’t found Anakin.

And Anakin had been in danger because of _ him. _

Obi-Wan had been the one to bring up the idea of Anakin coming along with him on this mission; it had been  _ his _ idea, but Padme had agreed right away when he’d approached her; privately, while Anakin was meeting with the Chancellor. It hadn’t felt entirely  _ right, _ going behind Anakin’s back in that way, but…

Well. The fact of the matter was, Obi-Wan had had more and more misgivings about leaving Anakin here on Coruscant. Yes, Padme needed his support as much as he needed hers, but they couldn’t be all things to one another, especially if Obi-Wan himself was not in position to help  _ either _ of them; and while Anakin hadn’t gone into specific detail about some of the things he and the Chancellor had discussed…

Obi-Wan had been troubled.  _ Very _ troubled. And no matter what he and Padme tried to comfort him, to ease his fears, Anakin’s nightmares were only getting worse. He’d stopped even telling them exactly what he dreamed, just “more of the same,” before withdrawing and trying not to fall back asleep.

Perhaps a step away from the pressure, back into an environment where he was at his best and  _ knew _ he could excel, despite the inherent dangers involved, would do him good. Of course, the tip from Intelligence might turn out to be nothing; Utapau might just be one more dead end, but the break to clear his head would still work.

Or so Obi-Wan had devoutly hoped.

Padme had heard him out, resting one hand on her stomach, and slowly nodded. “We’ll talk tonight, he’s promised he’ll come here for dinner.”

“I’ll be there, too,” he’d said, joining his hand with hers.

“It’ll work out,” she’d said. “We’ll figure it out. Somehow.”

“I know we will.” He’d leaned over to kiss her; then had to return to the real world for a few hours until the time came.

Cornering their partner may not have been  _ fair, _ but hopefully, if it came from  _ both  _ of them, he wouldn’t resist quite so much.

For whatever reason, for good or ill, it had turned out to be surprisingly  _ easy _ to persuade him.

Or, perhaps,  _ not _ so surprising; Anakin could certainly be  _ more _ than stubborn when it suited him, but given his relative skill and comfort levels in combat as opposed to politics, and the opportunity and  _ permission _ to find a loophole in a Council-assigned mission he  _ hated... _

Obi-Wan wasn’t altogether surprised at himself anymore, that the end run around the Council bothered him...little, if at all. He’d wondered, briefly, as he had for his own espionage mission, if he was letting his feelings for his partners outweigh other concerns, but--well, he’d deferred to the Council’s wisdom before, with near-disastrous results, and in this particular case, just like the last time, his own instincts argued for the exact opposite of his orders.

So, even though he knew he was technically commandeering Anakin from a potentially vital assignment; spying on the Chancellor--he’d recused himself from that vote, of course, as he had during Ahsoka’s trial; he knew he was too close to them to make a rational decision in either case. He had also quietly refused to give Anakin the assignment himself, though he’d done his best to explain the Council’s reasoning when Anakin had confronted him about it later. And perhaps he  _ did _ have his priorities out of order, but he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that putting Anakin in that position was doing more harm than good.

“You want me to go to Utapau with you?” Anakin had asked, when the subject had finally come up, that last dinner they’d all shared. He’d glanced over at Padme, eyes shadowed and slightly sunken. “I...I’m not saying I disagree, exactly, I should be there with you, Obi-Wan, but...shouldn’t one of us be  _ here, _ in case…?” His voice caught, and he trailed off.

“Ani, I’m over a month away from my due date,” she had said, resting one hand on his. “I’ll be fine. And--honestly, I think I’ll feel better if you’re out there together.”

Anakin’s eyebrows had shot up. He had started to say something, but she had held up a hand to stop him.

“I didn’t mean that,” she had corrected herself, reaching for Obi-Wan’s hand as well. “I mean...that came out wrong. I  _ want _ you here with me, both of you, of  _ course _ I do. But if  _ one  _ of you has to go...I feel better, I  _ worry _ less, when you two are on the same page and working together. When you two are together, I feel like there’s nothing the Separatists or the Sith or the galaxy itself can throw at you that you can’t handle.”

Anakin hadn’t responded directly, but Obi-Wan had thought his hand had flickered, squeezing Padme’s; he had certainly noticed when Anakin’s free hand reached for his.

“This may be nothing more than a wild bantha chase,” Obi-Wan had added, sensing that Anakin was wavering a little. “But if Grievous  _ is _ there...I’d rather have you with me, as well. One way or another, we’ll be back well before the baby comes, I promise you that.”

“...all right,” Anakin had said. “If...if you both think this is the right idea.”

“I do,” Obi-Wan had said; Padme had nodded, and then kissed each of them in turn, and changed the subject. To end the evening, before Anakin and Obi-Wan had to leave her again, on something softer than war and work.

Really, there was no need to do otherwise. Very few changes had to be made to the established mission parameters; as soon as the decision had been made, everything had fallen neatly into place. And, until fourteen hours ago, it had gone exactly as he’d hoped. Anakin had slept at least a few hours in transit, Obi-Wan was fairly sure, and had been  _ much _ more his usual self when they’d landed--still shadowed, still worried, still tense, but  _ worlds _ better than when they’d left.

But he and Anakin had gotten separated in the general confusion of battle--which has been, in part, the plan; he’d come knocking on Grievous’ front door while Anakin led the bulk of the men up from below to flank the droid army. And, true, he’d spotted his partner two or three times in the melee; they’d connected briefly when Obi-Wan had returned from killing the droid general (Anakin had teased him, something about not letting him have any fun, before disappearing back into the well to scour it for any clusters of droids waiting with a nasty surprise) and then--

He could still feel Boga dying under him; the Force was still torn wide open and screaming in more voices than he could track.

In the chaos that followed, he’d lost the little thread of Anakin’s presence he kept in the back of his mind at all times; he’d spent twelve hours searching; more with his eyes than the Force, which was still raw and screaming around him.

No luck.

He  _ still _ couldn’t sense him, not within that maelstrom of pain and loss, which--

Very deliberately, Obi-Wan closed off that line of thought. He would have to face that likelihood, and all that the screaming probably meant in time; he couldn’t hide from it forever, but for now, it was more important that he stay moving.

He’d fallen back on the emergency protocol he had established a decade or more ago, as soon as Anakin was ready for simple field missions: if things went all to hell and they got separated, search for no more than twelve hours, as long as they safely could, and then head to a designated rendezvous point.

Of course, in the early days, Anakin’s task (which he stuck to about half the time) had been to go  _ immediately _ to the rendezvous point, which Obi-Wan set in advance of every mission. But as time went on, that permitted delay grew with Anakin’s capabilities, and they had been working together long enough now to have a  _ series _ of fallback points. Both of them knew to make for the closest to wherever they were, unless otherwise arranged.

But chances were--chances were their regular rally points might be compromised. Obi-Wan simply didn’t know; lacked the information to be  _ sure. _

So, he had searched for his allotted twelve hours and then gotten clear; and now he had a choice to make. Risk one of their rally points, or find somewhere else to go.

_ Coruscant, _ he decided. If-- _ when _ \--Anakin found his own way off Utapau, that would be where he’d go, especially after--as paranoid as he’d been lately, he almost  _ certainly _ wouldn’t trust their old haunts anymore. He would go home to Padme and their child.

Obi-Wan would join his lovers there, and they would figure out the long term from there. It was like Padme had said, when they’d made up after the Rako Hardeen mess, and before he and Anakin left for Utapau, and over and over and again and again--if they were together, if the three of them were talking, were  _ communicating _ properly, they could handle just about anything.

...of course, the question remained whether his stolen ship had the range or the  _ fuel _ to get him that far. It certainly couldn’t get very far in one jump and might take him as much as several days to get back; but at the very least he had a goal in mind. He would monitor for any relevant transmissions or ‘Net broadcasts, just in case, but for at least for now, he had a  _ plan, _ and the people he loved most in the world were waiting.

He took a breath to steady himself, set the coordinates for his next jump, and began to move.


	3. Part 1, Chapter 3: Obi-Wan

Obi-Wan’s concerns about the quality of his stolen ship had been accurate.

Very accurate.

He had managed to make all of two jumps out of the dozen or so it would take to get him home to Coruscant before the hyperdrive had refused to cooperate any longer. Fortunately, it had chosen to die in a system with a habitable planet, and it was  _ only _ the hyperdrive that had failed on him.

Unfortunately, that left him stranded until he could repair it. The planet had settlements which might or might not have a replacement, but the chances that he could safely approach to find what he needed…

No. He may not have--he may not have Anakin’s skill or instinct for machinery, or even Ahsoka’s, but he was at least a moderately capable amateur mechanic. Unless the repairs proved entirely beyond him, it was better to keep to himself. At least until he had made contact with people he  _ knew _ he could trust.

Or learned--learned that that was no longer possible.

He tried not to focus overmuch on the worst-case scenario. He wasn’t there yet. He wasn’t yet ready to give up hope.

He managed to land with only limited difficulty; much of that caused by the site he’d chosen, which was a dense jungle. Uninhabited, and with plenty of cover from enemy surveillance, provided he didn’t damage the canopy too badly on the way in. After a day as draining as this one, that proved difficult, but not impossible.

(Had it only been a day? Had it  _ even _ been a day?)

It was tempting, at that point, to just stop for a moment. To close his eyes, to rest, to lean on the faint, irrational hope that this was all some horrible nightmare that would end when he opened them.

But he knew better than that. And he had work to do. The sooner he got back to Coruscant--to Padme--the better.

So, instead, he unstrapped himself and went outside with his weapon, his commlink, and a mediocre toolkit he’d found under the copilot’s seat to see what he could make of the hyperdrive.

He couldn’t help but think, as he got to work, of a similar incident, one that had seemed so small at the time but had led to the most important relationships of his life; a damaged hyperdrive, an emergency landing on a sparsely-populated planet…

But that was long ago and far away; a lifetime in the past; this time, he was all alone.

He shook off those ghosts as best he could, and poured all of his focus into the task at hand.

It appeared, to the best of his knowledge, that the drive wasn’t leaking or otherwise  _ badly _ damaged, just very old and rewired in a confusing and idiosyncratic way that was probably the legacy of at least four or five patch jobs before his.

On the positive side, that meant he could repair it well enough to keep moving for another handful of jumps.

On the  _ negative _ side, however, it was clearly on its last legs and should be replaced at the earliest possible opportunity. Either the drive itself, or just acquiring another ship entirely.

_ Another ship might well be simpler, _ he thought.  _ Easier to commandeer, for one thing, and if I play it right, I need not make contact with anyone and put myself at risk. _

No sooner had he come to that decision that his commlink buzzed. Startled, he dropped the tool he was holding, narrowly missing his foot, and picked it up to check the message.

Neither Anakin nor Padme, to his intense disappointment; nor Ahsoka, which would have been nearly as welcome. The message came from the Temple’s emergency broadcast frequency.

It was brief, and straightforward. The War was over, and all Jedi dispatched to the field of war were to return home immediately.

Obi-Wan set the commlink back down, keenly aware of how fast and hard his heart was beating.

He wanted to believe it. He  _ needed _ to believe it. But after everything he’d seen and experienced on Utapau--after everything he’d  _ felt  _ (the Force  _ still _ hadn’t stopped screaming)...

_ This is a trap. _

The certainty of that knowledge hit him like a blow to the stomach, knocking all the air from his lungs, leaving him unsteady and unstable as his knees gave out beneath him.

It had been everywhere. It had been every _ one. _

A switch had flipped, somewhere, and the Order was--nearly  _ everyone _ he’d ever known and loved was--

Gone.

He stayed there for a long time, until the sunlight shading through the jungle canopy above him turned gold, then red. It took that long for it to...to sink in.

Or perhaps...perhaps for him to truly let go of the willful denial, that wishful thinking he’d been clinging to since the first shots were fired, since Boga died under him and he plunged off that cliff.

Because he’d known. Some part of him had known that...that it was...that the disaster was total.

But knowing and  _ knowing _ were two entirely different things.

At last, at long last, he took a breath; shuttered away his grief and horror for the moment (it would take  _ years _ to handle it properly, he knew that; but enough, just enough, to keep him on his feet that long) and slowly picked his comm back up, replaying the message.

_...anyone who follows that beacon will only return to further slaughter. _

He was left with certain choices now.

He could maintain his current course, attempt to get to Coruscant and reset the message, warn the others away--if he arrived in time. With the ship he had, that was no guarantee. And procuring another one would likely take nearly as long.

He could continue on to Coruscant to meet with Padme and Anakin  _ (if Anakin is still--no; think of that later; focus on what you  _ can _ change now, not things that are completely out of your control). _ Whether or not he arrived in time to change the beacon, it would be easier, better, to plan his next move if he weren’t alone.

He could make for Naboo instead. It was closer, and there was a chance, however slim, that his lovers may have gone to Varykino or somewhere else for safety.

_ Coruscant, _ he decided.  _ I will continue on, unless--unless I hear otherwise, from a source I can trust. It’s the best option. Whatever I find there, if I make it there...that’s where I can be best positioned to take my next step. Whatever it might be. _

He took another breath, let it out slowly, then reached for the tool he’d dropped however many hours ago. He had a heading, a thin thread of desperate hope to follow, but until he got the damned drive working again, he couldn’t even follow that.

_ One step at a time. Fix the drive, get to Coruscant, and then… _

_ Then we’ll see. We will have to wait and see. _


	4. Part 1, Chapter 4: Padme

The world had changed practically overnight. One moment, everything was tense, but more or less stable; waiting for news from Utapau and her boys; thinking through their next steps after the War was over; planning for a future that finally seemed possible.

And then Padme had looked up to see smoke out her windows, billowing from the Temple on the horizon.

She’d half-wanted to go  _ herself, _ to help or investigate or...or  _ something. _ But her closest friends weren’t there, and she was far enough along that she’d only be in the way. She’d considered trying to contact Anakin or Obi-Wan, but she couldn’t think through the time differences, didn’t even know exactly  _ where _ on Utapau they were. Besides, she might distract them at a critical moment, and without a lot of setup, most of which had to be on  _ their _ end, the danger of exposure was too high for a direct call most of the time. It was better,  _ safer, _ to wait for them to reach out.

Instead, she’d gone with her  _ second _ idea, and sent a quick, careful message to Bail, asking if he knew what had happened, if he could tell her anything.

He hadn’t replied.

And  _ then, _ the next morning, it was almost as if a second series of explosions had rocked the city, a second massacre, this one quieter and subtler but no less devastating than the first.

The Republic was gone.

In its place was an Empire.

Padme had gone to Bail’s office after Palpatine’s announcement. She  _ still _ hadn’t heard from Anakin or Obi-Wan, which  _ normally _ would have been...well, not  _ good, _ but not  _ worrying, _ either; they were in the field and they couldn’t always find time or a discreet place to reach out. But after...after everything that had happened, everything Bail had half-told her…

Motee had come along with her; Dorme had stayed in her office as a decoy, with Elle for support. Just in case.

Bail had filled her in in a little more detail, once they had the necessary privacy and his staff had done what they could to counter surveillance.

Including finding Master Yoda, alive.

Including finding  _ no one _ else.

It didn’t mean they were--

She kept telling herself that, over and over and over again like a mantra; trying to keep her heart rate under control, for the baby’s sake if nothing else.

They’d come back. They  _ always _ came back. Obi-Wan had even come back after that awful mess at the Festival of Light, which--

_...is far too similar to Grievous kidnapping Palpatine  _ this _ time, oh hells, how long has he been--how  _ much _ has he been--oh, Anakin… _

_ When you two are together, there’s nothing that the Separatists or the Sith or the galaxy itself can throw at you that you can’t handle. _

How very,  _ very _ wrong she had been.

Still, whatever--whatever had happened to Anakin and Obi-Wan...she knew one thing for certain. She  _ could not _ allow herself or her children to remain within Palpatine’s reach. Not with what Palpatine had done to the Order, the lies he had told the galaxy. Bail had guessed at least part of what was going on between her and her boys, if  _ Palpatine _ had as well...

But there were other considerations, too. Her parents, her sister, her nieces...it was too much. Too much for her to decide in a moment.  _ Leave first, figure out the details later. _

Bail had offered her sanctuary, at least temporarily, on Alderaan, and she’d accepted without a second thought.

Her handmaidens had coordinated things among themselves; Bail had smuggled her off-planet along with Master Yoda, after he’d tried and failed to assassinate the Emperor. Yoda had kept his own counsel, but by the way he’d been watching her, she  _ knew _ Palpatine had thrown  _ something _ of Anakin or Obi-Wan back in Yoda’s face.

They hadn’t gone directly to Alderaan; Master Yoda had needed a better staging point to wherever he was going to hide--a place he hadn’t named to her. Possibly not to  _ anyone. _ Or so she hoped. She didn’t like the idea that he thought that  _ she, _ specifically, might betray him to Palpatine.

Of course, she’d managed to go into labor en route, so it may have been neither. She may have simply missed that conversation.

Those hours were, bar none, the worst of her life.

Worse than the initial part of the invasion, when she’d had little hope she’d be able to pull her planet from the brink.

Worse than the hours she’d spent waiting; after confused reports that one or both of her loves--or, in some ways worse,  _ Ahsoka _ \--was dead.

Worse than Obi-Wan’s funeral, all those months ago.

Worse than Anakin’s nightmares after Zygerria.

Worse than Ahsoka’s trial.

Worse than Obi-Wan clinging to them both, unable to speak, after Satine’s murder.

This was all of those and more, because the world was ending around her and how--how-- _ how _ was she supposed to raise a  _ child _ in this hell; and her baby’s fathers were  _ gone, _ probably dead, and--

If it hadn’t been for Motee at her side, clinging to her hand through the worst of it, she wasn’t sure she would’ve made it through.

Bail had been trying to redirect to a med center, but things had moved quickly, and the babies had come before they could land.

Babies.

Twins.

_ How _ had none of them known--

It hadn’t been long, after the birth, for Master Yoda to stop in. Maybe a half-hour after she and they were cleaned up, she had heard the tap of his cane and his faint, shuffling footsteps outside her cabin.

Motee had almost stopped him at the door--the babies were so  _ new, _ and  _ she _ needed time with them, and he wasn’t her family, or…

But Padme had nodded for her to let him in. There were...there were possible (probable) practical considerations he should weigh in on.

He had been quiet for a long moment, taking in the sight, and then sighed. “Glad, I am, that the three of you are well. And my thanks, for allowing me to see them.”

She’d nodded again. “You’re welcome. And...thank you.”

“When ready they are,” Master Yoda said, before leaving her, “find me. Know the way, they will.”

Padme wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about that. Her babies were still so  _ new, _ barely hers, and all, apart from the necklace Ani had given her so many years ago, all she had  _ left _ of their fathers. The  _ last _ thing she wanted to do was consider giving them up. Even if logic and duty said she should.

_ Where the hell have logic and duty gotten anyone lately? _

* * *

That had been three days ago; and now she was here on Alderaan, with her children sleeping in a double cradle beside her while she sat on the balcony in the suite Bail and Breha had loaned her, watching the mountains.

Padme had always loved Alderaan--not as much as her native Naboo, of course, but it was a beautiful world, and Bail and Breha had become dear friends of hers since she’d first joined the Senate.

As hiding places went, she could’ve found a worse one.

But she had a feeling she would never look at it the same way again.

And she couldn’t  _ stay _ much longer. She needed to come up with  _ some _ kind of long-term plan, one that didn’t involve putting her friends in danger for protecting her.

She hadn’t been having much luck with that so far, but Sabe was joining her today; Sabe, who had always been the best among her handmaidens at this kind of sideways thinking. It was why she’d stayed in Padme’s service, working as a sometime spy and freelance agent in the Outer Rim, even after Padme left the Palace.

She had just finished feeding the children, after managing to swallow a meal of her own, when she heard the door open behind her.

“Padme.”

Padme drew in a shaky breath, and turned to her friend, who took one look at her face and immediately pulled her into a hug.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Sabe said. “The others--Senator Organa--I heard. I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” Padme said; she already felt  _ almost _ steadier, just having her old friend to lean on. “Would you like to see them?”

“Yes,” Sabe said.

“I just put them down, but you can hold them later,” Padme promised her, then took her hand and pulled her over to the cradle, where Luke and Leia were sleeping side by side.

“They’re perfect,” Sabe said, softly. “Do you know…?”

“No,” Padme said, because she didn’t. “And it doesn’t matter.”

“No,” she agreed. “It doesn’t.”

They were silent for a moment longer. Padme, still a little unsteady after the events of the past few days, sat down on the armchair she’d had moved onto the balcony. The pendant Anakin had given her so many years ago was on the side table, right where she’d left it; she picked it up and fidgeted with it, watching the children sleep.

“What are you going to do?” Sabe asked, after a long moment.

“...I don’t know yet,” Padme admitted. “I’ve been trying to think through my options, but…” It was all so  _ much, _ how could she possibly…

“Whatever you decide,” she said, softly, “we’re with you. You know that.”

Padme nodded, half-distracted; eyes on the cradle.

_ Ideally, _ she would stay where she was. With...with her boys--with Anakin and Obi-Wan…

The scandal, even with the twins, would be minimal. And Apailana was unlikely to recall her, not after everything that had happened. She could use her talents and her position and her voice to help Bail and Mon and their other allies find a way to  _ fix _ this. As much as it  _ could _ be fixed.

But the threat Palpatine posed to her children refused to leave her mind.

She didn’t know what Anakin may have confided in Palpatine, but even if he hadn’t...their secret wasn’t as secret as she’d thought. The last few days had proved that.

Leia made a faint gurgling noise, a bubble of drool forming at her mouth, and it was somehow so endearing that Padme didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the sight.

“If I stay in the Senate, I’ll have to give them up,” she said.

_ Or risk Palpatine taking them anyway, and--and breaking them, like I think he was trying to do to Ani. At least...at least if it’s my choice… _

Sabe came to sit on the arm of her chair, right next to her, offering solid, if quiet, support. “Probably, yes.”

Luke sighed faintly and shifted in his sleep, and Padme felt something pricking at the corners of her eyes.

“I can’t,” she said. “I  _ can’t _ give them up, they’re all I--” The edges of the jappor pendant dug into her hand, and maybe-- _ maybe _ \--if she’d had some other keepsake of Obi-Wan’s, too…

She turned away.

Sabe stayed silent for another moment before saying, “Then you’ll have to leave the Senate.”

And  _ that _ was nearly as daunting,  _ especially _ with everything else falling to pieces around her. She’d spent her entire  _ life _ in politics; she’d have to find some other way to support herself and her children, and her marketable skills were limited. Plus, she would have to find a way to support the new war she  _ knew _ was coming, albeit from a distance.

But she had faced worse challenges before.

She had faced worse challenges in the last few  _ days. _

“Yes,” she said.

“We can protect you,” Sabe said. “And the children. I have resources, a few contacts who can help us disappear into the Outer Rim.”

“Good.”

“But,” she added, “but...I don’t think we have the resources to protect the rest of your family.”

_ Hells. _ Mom and Dad and Sola and the girls…

“And they’ll be used to draw me out,” she said.  _ Like during the Occupation, they’ll be singled out to get to me. And the girls are so  _ little, _ not much older than the twins… _

“Yes,” Sabe said.

“Unless...unless I’m not there to draw out.”

“Yes.”

“...could we do it?” she asked.

“It won’t be easy,” Sabe said. “Not like switching, like me or Dorme taking your place.”

“No.”

“But we’ll find a way,” she said, “if that’s what you want. I have some ideas, and I’m sure the others can refine them.”

It was awful to contemplate. She  _ knew, _ firsthand, how much it hurt to lose someone you loved only to find out they had  _ lied _ about it, no matter how necessary.

Was this different? Was it more or less justified? Was it just  _ selfish, _ abandoning her people and her responsibilities?

Or was it necessary, to protect her family and prepare for what came next?

It felt like the best option she had.

“...do it,” she said, the words closing over her like the shroud she wouldn’t actually wear.

“My lady,” Sabe said, bowing her head.

Another moment of silence stretched between them; this one melancholy, but less tense than they had been before. A decision had been made, and that eased things.

Even if the decision itself was only the least of several  _ terrible _ options.

And then Padme opened her eyes again, as a thought struck her. “There’s one other question we need to answer.”

“Oh?”

“The droids.” Anakin had left Artoo with her when he and Obi-Wan had gone to Utapau; as a concession to leaving her alone, he’d wanted her to have the droid for extra security. “I’m not sure whether we should bring them with us or see if Bail will take them, or send them to my parents, or…”

Sabe considered for a moment. “If we replace Threepio’s plating again, he’d be less conspicuous. And if we bring them along...Artoo is useful for security, among other things, and Threepio is an extra pair of hands.”

Which was true. And Anakin--Ani had originally built Threepio to help his mother, and even if he’d been performing different tasks for Padme lately, that programming would still be in there. Probably.

“And if we left them,” Sabe continued, “they’d probably need to have their memories wiped.”

“Then we take them,” Padme decided. “Or...well, we’ll see about recovering Threepio, and…”

It occurred to her that maybe the droids wouldn’t  _ want _ to run with her; maybe staying with Bail would be a better fit for them, even without their memories.

But, “I think we should,” Sabe said, which cut off the debate in Padme’s head.

“All right,” Padme said, relieved. And wasn’t that why she--and Queens in general-- _ had _ handmaidens, at least in part? So when crises started to pile up and it was all overwhelming, she had people around her she could absolutely rely on to cut through the noise and help her break down the decisions into manageable chunks?

“I’ll let them know, and we’ll finalize with Bail,” she finished

Sabe nodded. “I have some details of my own to sort out,” she said, “with Dorme and the others.”

“Of course,” Padme said. “...thank you. I don’t...I don’t think I could do this without you.”

“Good thing you don’t have to,” Sabe said, then hesitated for a moment. “...It will probably be just me, when we leave. Less conspicuous.”

Padme reached over and squeezed her hand.  _ “Just _ isn’t the word I’d use,” she said.

Sabe squeezed back and gave her a brief, sad smile. “I’d better get to work. I’ll be back soon.”

She nodded, and Sabe slipped away.

Padme turned back to watching her children; behind her, the door slid shut behind Sabe with a faint, but final click.

She leaned over and rocked the cradle, once. It was an awful thing--such an awful thing she planned to do, but the value of what she was protecting…

Her children were worth it. Her children were worth  _ everything. _ And she and Bail would work out a way for her to help the galaxy, too, during her exile. However long it was. With that in mind, and Sabe at her side, for the first time in days, Padme’s future felt real and possible.

In the morning, she would probably be legally and officially and publicly dead.

In the morning, her new war--her new  _ life _ \--would be just beginning.


	5. Part 1, Chapter 5: Anakin

There was a tunnel system, leading into Sundari. Ahsoka had shown Anakin one of the access points before he’d had to leave, and he headed straight there upon landing. He didn’t know exactly where she and--and the men had been when everything had happened, but if Bo-Katan Kryze’s forces had a headquarters, it would be down there.

Sure enough, he’d gotten maybe a hundred meters down the tunnel when he felt a gun pointed at his head.

“I’m not here as a threat,” he said; wished that he’d studied Mando’a instead of Kuati, weighing his chances of dodging or getting a weapon out to defend himself before whoever it was pulled the trigger.

_ Sloppy. Should’ve cleared the tunnel. If that had been a trooper, and not one of Lady Krzye’s people-- _

As if summoned by his thoughts, he heard her voice from a little further down the tunnel. “Skywalker?”

“Hi.”

The gun at his head disappeared, and he let out a breath. Footsteps retreated behind him, and he got the sense that he and Bo-Katan had been left alone.

She came closer, stepping into a dim shaft of light so he could see her, and pulling off her helmet.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I came to find Ahsoka,” he said. “I don’t...I don’t know if you know…?”

She studied him for a long moment before answering. “...I don’t know where she is,” she said, “or what happened to her. I was...I hoped you would. We lost contact with the GAR troops for an hour. Next thing we knew, the Chancellor was broadcast on the ‘Net, declaring a new Empire.”

Anakin flinched. He’d heard that announcement, which had confirmed his very  _ worst _ fears, and…

_ come home, come home, come home. _

“So you didn’t know about that, either.”

He cleared his throat. “I should have,” Anakin said. “He...it was everywhere. The Jedi are…” He couldn’t say the words.

She swore softly in Mando’a, then bowed her head.

“You haven’t heard from Ahsoka?” he asked, half-desperate.

“I wish I could tell you,” she said. “But I didn’t hear anything about her being killed, either. You got away. Maybe she did, too.”

_ If you have taught her well, _ Plo Koon’s voice echoed back to him, and he couldn’t help but flinch again.

“Maybe,” he agreed. “I...hope.”

“So do I,” she said. She eyed him for a minute, then added, “...this isn’t on you, Skywalker.”

“You don’t know--”

“I know that you can’t pull something like  _ this _ off without being very, very good at scheming,” she said, flatly. “This has been in the works since  _ long _ before you were in a position to do anything about it. You  _ can’t  _ start blaming anyone other than the person who did it. If you do, you’ll just shut down, and what the hell good would  _ that _ do?”

There was a certain truth in what she said. A part of Anakin knew it.

But a part of him also knew that he was supposed to be the Chosen One, that the Chancellor had wanted to twist him, to  _ break _ him into being--into giving into the worst parts of himself.

That he’d spent so much time believing the Chancellor’s lies, that he’d missed what, in hindsight, was  _ obvious. _

“You can stay here,” she said, interrupting his increasingly bleak thoughts, “for a little while. Plan your next move--hell, maybe Ahsoka will reach out.”

“...thank you,” he said. It was more than he’d expected, if he could’ve said he’d expected anything.

“Our camp’s this way,” she said. “Follow me.”

She put her helmet back on, and led him down the tunnel.

They hiked for maybe a half-hour; the whole time, he could sense some of her people shadowing them, but that was fine. Frankly, he’d be more worried if he  _ couldn’t. _

Eventually, the passageway opened out into a cavern, or staging area. There were a handful of Mandalorian warriors, in various levels of armor; two were cleaning or modifying weapons, one was working on preparing some kind of communal meal, and the others were clustered around a HoloNet transceiver, listening to some kind of broadcast.

He wasn’t sure  _ why; _ couldn’t hear what the reporter was saying yet, but his heart dropped when he saw them.

_ I have a bad feeling about this. _

When Bo-Katan didn’t stop him, he moved closer, until he could hear.

“--ment from Queen Apailana’s office gave few details, but an official state funeral for the Senator has been scheduled--”

_ \--an official state funeral-- _

The ground dropped out from beneath him.

_ No. _

No, no that couldn’t be--after Obi-Wan, with--Padme  _ couldn’t _ be--

“No.”

The ground was shaking. The  _ universe _ was shaking, all around him.

“Skywalker?”

_ “No!” _

He couldn’t think; couldn’t hear; there was a babble of voices all around him; the familiar sense of a stun bolt screaming over his frayed nerves and then--nothing.

* * *

He came to in a smaller cavern, in binders, with only Bo-Katan keeping watch over him.

“Are you going to break down again?” she asked. “Because I  _ will _ stun you again.”

“...no,” he said.

“Good,” she said, and he felt her relax. “...I didn’t realize you and Senator Amidala were that close.”

Just...just hearing her name felt like getting stabbed in the gut.

He looked away, and didn’t answer.

“...you were lovers,” she guessed.

“We…” He cleared his throat. “We were…” He could feel his breath catch; his chest tighten. “She was...she was...there was a child, we…”

She swore again; he felt her reaching out and jerked away.

There was a beat, a moment of silence, and she withdrew. “I’m sorry,” she said. The words were heavy; awkward; but painfully sincere.

He nodded, ran his sleeve over his eyes, and stared at the ground.

Another long moment stretched between them, before she spoke again.

“What will you do now?”

More heavy words; this time hitting him like bricks. “I don’t…” He broke off.

“Nothing will bring her back.”

_ echo of poisonous promises; whispers in his ear; come home, come home, come home. _

“You think I don’t  _ know _ that?” he snapped; he could feel the ground around him, wanting to shake, wanting to echo his pain, but--

He took a breath.  _ Don’t. Don’t, don’t, don’t, just...don’t. _

He could feel Bo-Katan’s eyes on him, but she hadn’t reached for her pistol again.

“...I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m so--”

“I get it,” she said.

It rang true, in her voice and in the Force, and that just made him feel  _ more _ guilty.

Another unsteady breath. “What  _ can _ I do?” he asked; the ground was settled now; he could feel himself tumbling into some kind of bleak despair, tumbling down from rage at the world that had taken  _ everything _ from him.

Because once everything was gone, what did he have left?

“You have two choices,” she said. “Find something to fight for, a reason to keep going...or let this break you.”

There was something in the way she said it, or in the currents in the Force surrounding her, that...resonated.

He looked up at her.

She didn’t elaborate, and he didn’t ask. He could feel the pain, and the carefully-banked rage, underlying every word.

“I had Mandalore--I always have, and I always  _ will, _ until the day I die.”

“I don’t…” Anakin’s voice stuck in his throat for a minute. “I don’t think I have anything like that. Not anymore.”

That voice from his dream echoed out again. 

_ come home, come home, come home… _

_ No. No, I’m not--I’ve given you enough. I am  _ never _ letting you in again. _

Bo-Katan was watching him, face half in shadow and unreadable, but the Force around her swirled thoughtfully.

“You could stay,” she said, after a moment. “I can’t promise you’ll be  _ totally _ safe, but you’d have people around. A Clan. You could start over.”

A part of him, for a moment, almost wanted it. A clean break, a way to  _ forget _ everything he’d lost and bury himself in a new life. One he’d maybe be better suited to, than the Jedi--the  _ Chosen One _ \--he’d tried and failed to be.

What did he have waiting for him off of Mandalore, anyway? Ghosts and nightmares, and the loss of all he’d ever loved.

_ Except she thought Ahsoka  _ might  _ have gotten out. _

Except she didn’t  _ know. _

“But you’d have to really  _ be _ one of us,” she continued. “Bury your sword, and learn to fight the way  _ we _ do. Become Mandalorian. I could adopt you.”

Anakin blinked and looked up at her. She seemed...genuine. Serious.

Like she had been this whole conversation.

“...I’m a little old for that.”

She shrugged. “Adult adoptions are rare, but not unheard of. You’ve lost your family--” despite himself, he flinched and looked away “--and my Clan is...I think I can count the living members on one hand.”

He spent a minute or so, dragging himself back out of the well of raw grief again. “Why?” he asked.

“I’m familiar with your work,” she said, “and Ahsoka spoke highly of you. You’d do Clan Kryze proud, I think.”

He thought about it.  _ Really _ thought about it. About what it might mean, moving forward. About how he’d almost collapsed the tunnel earlier. About what he’d lost--and what he stood to gain, if he accepted her offer.

But if there was  _ any _ chance Ahsoka was still alive, or other... _ other  _ survivors, other people he’d failed by listening to--by putting his trust in the  _ worst _ possible place…

He couldn’t leave all that behind. He couldn’t fix what he’d broken, what he’d failed to protect...but he could atone. He could, maybe, make things a little less awful for anyone who was left.

Because, whether he deserved it or not, whether he  _ wanted _ it or not,  _ he _ was still here. Still alive. Which meant his work wasn’t finished. Not yet. Why  _ else _ would the Force have let  _ him _ survive, when so many others had...

He couldn’t undo his mistakes, couldn’t go back and  _ not _ trust the Chancellor, listen to--

He should’ve listened to Obi-Wan and Padme instead. If he had, maybe they’d still…

They had  _ believed. _ In the Republic, in everything they were fighting for--even in  _ him. _ Even when his doubts, his  _ paranoia _ were at their worst.

_ When you two are together, there’s nothing that the Separatists or the Sith or the galaxy itself can throw at you that you can’t handle. _

And he had believed in  _ them. _ Even at his worst. Or he’d  _ tried  _ to, anyway, and he wasn’t--he  _ couldn’t _ stop now.

_ They would want me to keep fighting, _ he thought.  _ To do my duty. I owe that much to them. _

Just like at First Geonosis, when Obi-Wan had cut through his panic after Padme fell; the thought of them, of their faith, steadied him.

“I...thank you,” he finally said, and half-bowed from his seat, “but I can’t. Even if--my fight’s still out there. And if there’s  _ any _ chance that…” His voice broke again.

She nodded. “I understand,” she said, with a faint smile.

“Thank you,” he said, again.

She leaned over, and unlocked the binders. “As long as you have something to fight  _ for. _ Not just something to fight  _ against.” _

He closed his eyes; pictured that last night on Coruscant; Padme and Obi-Wan and all the faith and love they carried for him.

Ahsoka; bright and shiny and spiky and determined and  _ always _ moving forward.

“...I think I do,” he said.

“Good,” she said. “Hold on to it, if you can. It’s better that way. Might help keep you from burning all your bridges and getting trapped on the other side.”

And if she’d only known how  _ close _ he’d come…

_ come home, come home, come home. _

But now  _ she _ was looking away.

She wasn’t talking about  _ him. _

He remembered, then, that she’d run with Death Watch. For  _ years. _

She’d burned her share of bridges.

“...does it ever get easier?” he asked. “The guilt?”

“For surviving?”

_ When it was my mistakes that--when I would give  _ anything _ to-- _

“...yeah.”

She laughed a little. “If you find out, Master Jedi, let me know.”

* * *

In the end, Anakin spent about a month on Mandalore with Bo-Katan. She’d kept him hidden away in the tunnels under Sundari, just like that first night, and he’d waited; getting his bearings; hoping for news of Ahsoka, but--

Nothing came.

He spent about half of his time down there sparring with Bo and her people; learning a few of their tricks and teaching them a few of his own. The ones they could use without the Force to help them, anyway. The rest of the time, he’d spent meditating, trying to do it  _ right, _ like O--like Master Yoda and all the others had tried to teach him over the years. To process what he’d felt, what he’d  _ done, _ and let it go.

To forgive himself and move on, maybe.

He hadn’t quite managed the first, but he thought  _ maybe  _ he was ready for the second.

He’d offered, towards the end of that month, to help them with their fights, but Bo had declined.

_ “You fight as you are, you’ll draw attention we can’t afford,” _ she’d said,  _ “and unless you’ve changed your mind about staying…” _

It hadn’t been easy. He’d never liked sitting idle, and he  _ knew _ there was trouble on the surface. He could sense it; could sense that Bo was already drawing enough attention on her own.

_ She’s never been one to surrender, and I’ll bet anything the Chancellor asked her to. _

But he’d accepted her judgment in the end, and focused on his--training, for lack of a better word. All those things he’d neglected, during the frenetic years of the Clone War, spinning from one fight to the next, from battles to quiet nights in Padme’s apartment, with Obi-Wan on his other side, and Ahsoka…

...he still couldn’t sense either of them. His partner, or his former apprentice. He wanted--he  _ wanted, desperately _ to believe they’d somehow come clear, but he knew…

He knew better.

But he couldn’t stay forever, and while Bo-Katan hadn’t started hinting his presence was putting them in danger or anything, by the end of that month, he’d found something approaching a new equilibrium, and he knew it was time to move on.

And so he left, carrying with him some new skills, a Mandalorian-style blaster, and four truths to base the rest of his life on.

One - that, whether or not it truly  _ was _ his fault that Palpatine had taken so much, however much his failure to see through the Chancellor’s lies and stop him really counted, he owed it to the galaxy, and to Padme and Obi-Wan and Ahsoka and  _ everyone _ he’d ever loved, to fight back.

Two - that he had to do it alone. He’d seen both the first beacon, the recall, and the second, with Master Yoda’s warning to stay away, and he knew the wisdom in the second, as much as it burned him. He could hope, maybe, that he’d find someone,  _ anyone;  _ like Bo-Katan had said, that was a  _ much _ better way to fuel himself than revenge; but he couldn’t go  _ looking. _

Three - that he had to do better, to  _ be _ better, than he had been during the War. Watch himself more closely, not give into the instincts that the Chancellor had fed; try harder to be the Jedi he  _ should _ have been all along. Because the alternative--

_ the voice still echoed in his dreams most nights; flashes of fire and death; Padme’s funeral; Obi-Wan’s false one fading into a body rotting in one of Utapau’s wells; Ahsoka, lost somewhere out in Mandalore’s wastes; and over it all, that whisper, urging him--come home, come home, come home... _

\--the alternative was giving in. And he  _ would not _ do that. He might burn himself out trying to get close enough to take his shot, but the only way he’d see the Chancellor again would be if he was ready,  _ truly _ ready, to do what he  _ should _ have done after that night in the Opera House.

Which brought him to four - he could never,  _ ever _ give up the fight. Accept the possibility that the work might be too much for one Jedi, even him, to complete, yes. Accept the likelihood that this mission would end in his death, one way or another, yes. But stop fighting--never.

That was what he was good at.

That was what he would be.

He couldn’t undo what had been done. There was nothing in the galaxy--not even what the Chancellor had tried to lure him with, back in the Opera House--that could do that.

But doing everything in his power to stop things from getting worse, even if he couldn’t make it  _ right… _

This fight was all he had left. Turn his grief to  _ purpose, _ not just vengeance, and--

Fight.


	6. Part 2: 19 - 18 BBY, Chapter 1: Padme

Once the decision to fake her death had been made, Padme stayed on Alderaan for three more days, while Sabe and the others attended to most of the practical details. She found it easier, for the moment, to leave it all up to them, and focus on healing and bonding with the twins. Something so simple and yet so  _ enormous _ that it took up almost all of the energy she had, anyway.

She was already noticing little differences between them, even this early. Leia tended to be more insistent, quicker to start crying if she needed anything--but it was also easier to work out  _ what _ she was crying about and soothing her than Luke. Fortunately, at least for now, they mostly slept at the same time. She knew enough, from Sola and Yane and general background research, to hope that they  _ kept _ that pattern. She’d be running short enough on sleep for the next few months.

Of course, she also met with Bail several times, to outline tentative long-term goals to take back the Republic, and with both Bail and Sabe to establish their cover identities--close to the truth, which would be easier to maintain over months and years. The three of them had agreed that she and Sabe should settle somewhere, if possible, rather than staying mobile. It would probably be better for the twins to have  _ some _ stability in their lives.

The planet Sabe had selected would take them almost four weeks to reach, on a roundabout route to try and throw off pursuit. Even if they’d taken the most direct flights available, it would take almost half that time, which was good. The more remote it was, the less likely she’d be recognized. And the more lightly the Imperial occupation would be, at least while they were getting settled.

But, even with that, Laetyr III was still close enough to a hyperlane to be a reasonably busy waypoint, with a few decent-sized population centers and two spaceports. Sabe had picked the smaller of the two for them to settle. Amyr was more like a large town than a city, about a third the size of Theed, but still big enough that a young widow, her sister, and her children would be able to settle there without their arrival being an Event.

It was also, based on Sabe and Bail’s analysis, the likelier of the two ports to host a permanent garrison, if the Empire decided to build one on the planet. Which made it a little more dangerous, maybe, in terms of getting caught, but a lot more useful, in terms of their overall mission.

They finally left on the day of her official funeral, which Padme thought was somehow both bizarre and absolutely appropriate. She hadn’t even asked exactly  _ how _ they’d faked her death, which had been mostly Elle and Motee’s project.

They’d rented a small cabin, rather than two berths, on a commercial liner headed for Ixaly, their first stop on the Outer Rim. A little less discreet, maybe, but it would be easier, even when trying to blend in, to travel that way with two infants. And they had the funds for it. Sabe had some savings, and Bail had been generous, and Elle had siphoned off as much as she’d thought was safe from Padme’s personal accounts, which gave them a much better start than  _ most _ people got. Even bearing in mind that they’d need a place to stay and something to live on until they found a long-term sense of income, though they had plans for  _ that, _ too--Sabe wanted to buy a cantina, if they had the funds left after buying a house. 

Of course, the broadcast of her funeral was playing on the HoloNet transceiver when they boarded and found their cabin.

“Do you think they’ll ever forgive me?” she asked Sabe, after shutting it off.

Sabe didn’t have to ask who. Her parents, her sister, her nieces…the list of people  _ not _ in on her secret went on. It had to.

“…in time,” she said. “I think they’ll understand, anyway.”

Padme nodded, and went back to making sure the cradles the liner had provided really  _ were _ safe and bolted to the floor. Artoo had already done that, of course, but she was paranoid.

The rest of the trip had passed in a blur. Padme had still been healing, physically and emotionally, from everything she had gained and lost in a matter of  _ days. _ Fortunately, she’d had Sabe to guide her and help her hold together, or she never would have made it.

They found a house, and the cantina Sabe wanted, both of which they could afford with a reasonable amount of emergency cash left over. Hopefully, that stash would grow some once the cantina, which Sabe renamed the Blackbird, started making them actual money.

The house was almost exactly suited to their needs, and had actually been the bigger expense of the two. It was a nice balance between distance from the Blackbird, and distance from the edge of town where they were planning to stage an emergency escape vehicle as soon as they had one. Obviously, if they had enough warning or needed to move because it was time to move on to the next stage of the plans she and Bail had put together, they’d go through the port, but if they were discovered, or their safety here was compromised in some other way…

So, a good chunk of their dwindling nest egg went to buying that necessary real estate, and another chunk in buying a beat-up old freighter that Artoo promised he could get in working order with only a few weeks’ work. It might not get them  _ far, _ but it would get them  _ away. _ Padme was pretty sure Sabe slept better, the night after they bought it.

The next step, while Sabe got the bar set up the way she liked and began all of the prep she’d need before she could officially open, was to modify the inside of the house, discreetly. First and foremost, to put a false wall and a back door in one of the closets, which let out into the narrow alley between their house and their neighbors’. Threepio did most of the work on that one, only complaining a little bit that he wasn’t programmed to be a construction droid.

Eventually, the flurry of activity had stopped, and the six of them--Padme, taking the name Rida Pentai; Sabe, taking the name Cera Verlaine; the droids, and the children--settled into as close to a routine as a life with two newborns could be.

* * *

It had been something like three months since they’d left Alderaan and their old lives behind, and while Padme wasn’t  _ wholly _ recovered yet--there were some wounds, she thought, that would  _ never _ fully heal--she was starting to feel more like a person again. Infant-induced sleep deprivation aside.

She wasn’t  _ quite _ feeling restless yet, not with the children to focus on, but she knew it was only a matter of time.

But she  _ was  _ at least beginning to be ready to face the world outside their house, which didn’t yet feel like a home. Ready to get back to  _ some _ kind of work.

It wasn’t  _ exactly _ a single moment of clarity that had led her to this conclusion, and she was aware that it might not last, if only because of infant-induced sleep deprivation; and grief and healing weren’t a linear process, she  _ knew _ that.

But she’d just spent a whole hour, after putting the twins down for a nap, trying to mop their kitchen floor, which wasn’t  _ nearly _ big enough to justify it taking her that long, and it  _ still _ didn’t look right. But, rather than making her burst into tears, like most little frustrations since leaving Coruscant had done, the thought just made her  _ mad. _

_ That _ was new.

She shoved the mop aside and took a couple deep breaths to calm down.

_...I think...I think this means I’m ready for things to change. At least a little bit. _

“Rida?” Sabe called from the main room, interrupting her thoughts.

_ I didn’t hear her get back.  _ But it wasn’t a surprise, either--Sabe usually stopped in for an hour or two, in the early afternoon, between doing her morning setup and prep and actually opening. So the two of them could actually talk, which--well, with two babies to look after and a business to run, they didn’t have as much of that as they’d prefer.

“In here,” she called back, pushing away from the counter she’d been leaning on and making a face when she stepped in the water she’d spilled and it soaked through her sock.

Sabe paused in the doorway for a moment, taking in the half-mopped floor and Padme’s probably too-obvious frustration with nothing more than a raised eyebrow.

“...I don’t think I’m very good at being domestic,” Padme admitted, after a beat. And if that was still only a small part of what she was feeling, it was a  _ manageable _ one, at least. A place to start.

Sabe took another half-second, then said, absolutely deadpan, without even the slightest trace of sarcasm, “I’m shocked.”

Padme blinked, then giggled a little, which turned into crying a little, but she  _ still _ felt like a weight had lifted off her shoulders. Not that Sabe had been treating her like her grief had made her fragile, not exactly, but…

“Thank you,” she said, when she got her breath back.

“Of course,” she said.

“I’ll get Threepio to finish later,” Padme said. “He told me I should just let him do it, but I needed to…”

_ “Do _ something?” Sabe guessed.

“Yeah.”

She nodded, then hesitated a moment before saying, “...I’m sorry. I would’ve...I could’ve helped you find something, but I thought that...I thought this was what you needed. To retreat, a little bit.”

“I...did,” she said. Which was true. Taking time to heal  _ was _ something she’d needed, and she didn’t regret it. “I  _ did _ need this time, but...now, I think I need to  _ do  _ something. Not  _ more, _ exactly, but...something...something constructive. Like I’m building something, or--or accomplishing something, or… _ contributing, _ somehow.” She took a slightly shaky breath. “It’s not that the twins aren’t--just...there’s so  _ much  _ out there, things that I can do, things that I  _ should _ be doing, and I feel like…”

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me,” Sabe said.

“I know,” she said, “but...it helps, putting it into words.” She thought about how she’d struggled and stammered through it, and added, “for a given value of words, anyway.” Another breath. “I think...I think if there wasn’t so much  _ work _ to do out there, so much to fix and so many people who...if it weren’t for all of that, staying home with the twins and even learning how to use the karking  _ mop _ would be more than enough to fill my life.”

It was what she’d wanted, before everything had--before everything had ended. To retreat to the lake house with Anakin and Obi-Wan, to set up a nursery and raise their children in the peaceful retirement the three of them had  _ more than  _ earned. It had been such a beautiful dream, while it lasted.

Sabe nodded. “But there  _ is _ an Empire to fight first.”

“Exactly,” Padme said, “and I’m  _ really _ not good at stepping back from a fight. Not one like this.”

_ Even if--I’m not  _ alone,  _ I know I’m not, because Sabe’s here, but at the same time… _

The thought of facing this fight without Anakin and Obi-Wan with her--the thought of facing her future, raising her children, without them…was still almost more than she could bear. But it was her reality, and she had to face up to that at  _ some _ point.

“True,” Sabe said. “...are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“No,” Padme admitted, after a moment’s thought. “But I think if I wait much longer, I’ll...I’ll either start climbing the walls until I run out and do something righteous and half-planned and  _ stupid, _ or I’ll...or I’ll never be able to figure out  _ how _ to start, and I’ll just…”  _ Freeze over. Fade away. Lose what joy I have left, even with you and the twins to sustain me. _

“Would it help if you spent some time at the Blackbird?” Sabe asked. “Not a full shift, unless you want that, but it would get you out of the house, and doing something productive, if only eavesdropping. Not to mention, you’d have the chance to talk with an adult other than me.”

“That--yeah, I think that would help,” Padme said. Such a simple thing, especially since that  _ was _ their mission here. To observe and report, and maybe start recruiting when the time was right. So it would at least  _ feel  _ constructive, like she was starting to contribute to their larger goals, and it would fill her time and get her out of her head.

Besides, it would give Sabe a break, and, like Sabe had suggested, some adult conversation would probably do her good.

“Then we’ll try that for a while,” Sabe said. “Maybe you could work a few hours, in the afternoon, just after we open?”

“I like that idea,” she said. “I don’t...I don’t know if I can do a full shift yet, but a few hours should work.”

“All right,” Sabe said. “If you’re all right leaving the droids in charge of the twins for a bit tomorrow, you can come in with me and I’ll show you how everything is set up.”

_ That _ part, she wasn’t so sure of. Not that she didn’t trust Artoo and Threepio, because of  _ course _ she did, but...these were her  _ babies. _

_ And this is a decision  _ every  _ parent has to go through when they decide to start working outside the home again, _ she reminded herself.  _ Even if they don’t have to worry about a monster hunting for them or their children. ...well. Even if they don’t have as much  _ reason _ to worry about that. _

Best to just get it over with. Like ripping off a bandage.

“Right,” she said, “let’s plan on that. Let me get Threepio to finish up in here, and then you can fill me in on everything else?”

“Of course,” Sabe said. “I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready.”

Padme nodded, made sure the mop was stable against the counter, then peeled off her wet socks and went to find her droid.


	7. Part 2, Chapter 2: Obi-Wan

For the first several weeks of Obi-Wan’s exile, he had focused on immediate, short-term problems, in part because the practical concerns of keeping himself alive and mobile, and escaping to the relative safety of the Outer Rim, genuinely  _ did _ take the vast majority of his attention. Particularly after receiving the second, updated beacon--the warning to stay away--and giving up on reaching Coruscant.

And it was...simpler. Safer, in the short term, to bury himself in that, in following the last directive that Master Yoda had given, to keep his head down and disappear. Until he’d done that much, he  _ couldn’t _ process the enormity of what had happened, what he’d lost, let alone what should come next.

Which was another question he’d been avoiding until he couldn’t anymore. What to do with the  _ rest _ of his life.

Because, despite Master Yoda’s excellent and practical advice, Obi-Wan knew that he couldn’t simply retreat and watch and wait. Not for long. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to live with himself, make peace with his survival when so many were--when so many had passed into the Force. Not if he weren’t doing  _ some _ small thing, whatever he could, to nudge the galaxy back towards freedom.

And, while he knew--he  _ knew _ \--that he shouldn’t base his decisions on such things, even now, Padme and Anakin’s ghosts would never forgive him if he simply...gave up.

(But, perhaps, if honoring the memory of those he had loved and lost kept him moving forward...maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to base his decisions on, after all. Something he would have to think on, when he had the time, when it wasn’t so raw; as with so many other changes to the galaxy and the way he would have to live in it now.)

So. The long and short of it was, working his way back to the fight, once he’d had time and space to get his feet back under him, so to speak, had never really been in question. How to go about  _ doing _ so, on the other hand…

Obi-Wan had never been  _ alone  _ quite like this before. Oh, he’d undertaken dangerous missions with no immediate backup, more than once, but always in the wider framework of the Order. Or, at the very least, with his lovers’ backing and support.

But now--now, he was well and truly  _ alone. _

True, he had some contacts who were probably still alive, and possibly not absorbed into the new regime, but few among them he was reasonably certain could trust with his safety at the moment--fewer still he would be willing to risk becoming targets on  _ his _ behalf.

He was certain that, in time, there would be some kind of organized resistance, which would go a long way towards mitigating that second problem enough to be worth making contact, but he doubted such a thing existed yet. If it did, it was likely centered around Padme’s allies in the Senate--and contacting  _ them _ was out of the question; far too risky--or former Separatists and outlaws who would be unlikely to accept him, with all his history as their enemy, even if he  _ could _ make contact.

He could possibly attempt to build his  _ own _ cell, form the nucleus of a resistance movement himself, but that came back to the same safety concerns; his own, should he reach out to the wrong person, and that of anyone he managed to recruit, should he be lucky enough to avoid that.

Perhaps potential allies would reach out to  _ him-- _ true, this carried the same safety risks, but at least for genuine allies, it would mean that they were more likely to truly accept and understand the risks  _ they _ were undertaking.

He could live with that.

But, at least for the time being, that left little choice but to accept his solitude and find ways to strike back as an individual.  _ Without _ allowing his--his grief to turn his mission into an act of self-destruction.

A daunting prospect, to say the least.

Palpatine had spent so long maneuvering all of his pieces into position, and then initiated his endgame so rapidly that Obi-Wan was having difficulty just grasping the  _ scale _ of the nightmare and breaking the task down into slightly-less-impossible stages. Let alone figuring out exactly where to  _ start. _

Which was how he’d found himself here, tucked away in a corner of a filthy but otherwise nondescript cantina on Redry II; the most recent of several such waypoints (he’d lost count of the exact number) he’d found himself in since Master Yoda’s updated beacon had reached him and he’d reversed his course, heading back to the Outer Rim.

He was monitoring a sliced HoloNet feed--not  _ quite _ into a truly classified database, but past enough of the preliminary government security features to get to the actual information beyond the blatant propaganda--in hope of finding  _ some _ sort of opening,  _ some _ crack to exploit, when he felt a slight tremor in the Force.

He paused the feed and, carefully keeping his movements casual, reached for his drink. Not to actually consume it--even if he could afford to get drunk right now, he trusted neither the liquor nor the dishwasher in a place like this--but as cover to take a look around.

A quick scan of the bar revealed no new or escalating trouble spots. But, then again, that subtle shift hadn’t felt  _ dangerous, _ just important. Well, there was a slight commotion at the entrance, which had happened two or three times since Obi-Wan came in; the only regulation that the cantina seemed to follow was a local minimum drinking age, which of course didn’t stop adolescents--whether local or, possibly, transient and unaware of the rule--from trying to get in.

This time, though, his attention was caught and held. That same shift that had interrupted him in the first place drew him tighter in, centering on a spark which, in focus, blossomed into a familiar presence.

He nearly dropped his mug in shock.

_ Ahsoka! _

She was alive--she was  _ here, _ although  _ how _ and  _ why-- _

\--were questions he could sort through later.

He set down his mug and shut off his datapad, slipping it back into his pocket and heading for the door. He schooled his face into a scowl that hopefully wouldn’t look out of place; he hadn’t assumed any particular persona before coming in, but his solitude and how he was dressed and the location itself all lent themselves to certain assumptions.

He reached the door just as Ahsoka was about to give up and walk away in frustration.

“I  _ told you _ to wait outside,” he snapped.

It took her a split second to control her expression, but even past that, a mix of surprise, confusion, almost giddy relief, and sudden understanding rippled out through the Force.

She glared right back at him, folding her arms over her chest.

“That was  _ over an hour _ ago,” she said.

“Both of you,  _ out!” _ the bartender shouted.

Obi-Wan spun to face him, as if to snap back, made a show of rethinking his life choices at the size of the Besalisk’s four biceps. “...fine,” he said, with ill grace, grabbing Ahsoka by the upper arm and, to all appearances, hauling her outside more than half by force.

A minor scene, yes, but one that would hardly be out of place, and barely remembered by the witnesses in five minutes.

Once he thought they were a safe distance away, he let go and turned to Ahsoka, who nearly knocked him over as she launched herself at him, pulling him into an almost-bruising hug.

He returned the gesture, though hopefully not holding her  _ quite  _ as tightly as she held him. They only remained there for a moment--a safe distance from the cantina didn’t  _ quite _ mean it was safe to linger--before he let go.

“My ship isn’t far,” he said.

“Good,” she said. “I hitched a ride with a bounty hunter after I helped her get away from an Imperial patrol. Haven’t gotten one of my own yet, I was scouting for a decent one when I passed that cantina.”

And whether or not she’d specifically sensed  _ him, _ the Force must have drawn her inside.

Must have brought them back together.

“I’m glad you did,” he said, softly. They were still isolated enough to say at least that much.

“Me, too,” she said; and then they turned the corner into a busier market street, and fell into a comfortable, familiar silence as he led her back to his ship.


	8. Part 2, Chapter 3: Obi-Wan

While Obi-Wan  _ had _ managed to replace the ship he’d stolen on Utapau, his new one wasn’t in much better condition, save that the hyperdrive didn’t short out on him every few jumps. The drive still didn’t have much range, nor did the sublights have the power he would have wished, but the ship’s shields were exceptional and, while battered, it was clean and well-kept. If it was, as seemed increasingly likely, to be his home until he managed to get his hands on something better, he was determined to have  _ some _ pride in it.

Ahsoka took the thing in with nothing more than a quirk of her eye markings as he input the correct code to lower the ramp and led her into the ship’s small galley.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much just yet,” he said. “I’m still...sorting things out.”

“Yeah,” she said. She hopped up onto the table, sitting in the middle with her legs crossed, while he busied himself with the kettle he’d legitimately  _ bought _ two weeks before.

He considered nudging her into an actual chair, but--well, she seemed comfortable, and he didn’t  _ particularly _ mind. It was familiar, comforting, so very  _ like her _ that he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it.

“I’m  _ so glad  _ I found you,” Ahsoka said. “I mean, I wasn’t  _ looking, _ really, just…”

“No, I know what you mean,” he said, pushing a cup of tea into her hand. Safe for her to drink, of course--even several months after the last time they’d traveled together, before she’d left the Order, it was still his habit to acquire things that were safe for both Humans and Togruta when he was picking up supplies.

She smiled and accepted it, although she held the mug close and pondered it, rather than drinking.

The question she didn’t  _ quite _ want to voice hovered in the air.

“It’s just me,” he said.

“...yeah,” she said, then set the mug aside to hug him again, “except not just. You know?”

He smiled a little. “Fair enough,” he said.

“I mean, I  _ was _ hoping you’d heard…”

He shook his head. “Just...just the beacons, from the Temple,” he said. “Did you get those?” She had left the Order, so she might not have, but given where she had been when--when everything had happened, there was a chance.

“No,” she said. “What…?”

“The first was a trap,” he said, “a general recall. The second...the second was a warning. Master Yoda advised all of us to stay away, and keep our heads down.”

“Oh,” she said, picking up her mug and toying with it again. He could feel her renewed grief spilling out into the Force, and it was a challenge to keep his own in check, when all it wanted to do was echo hers.

Such things were meant to be shared, perhaps. Cultures all over the galaxy had communal,  _ public _ expressions of mourning. Both as a signal to those who only slightly knew the deceased to offer support to the bereaved, and...and for those with shared grief to lean on one another.

Obi-Wan had been alone with his grief for so long that, while of course he hadn’t tried to bottle it up or ignore it and let it explode on him later, he’d...he’d never quite given  _ voice _ to it, either.

Early on, he’d considered fleeing to Tatooine, briefly--if only because he’d been reminded by the state of that first ship’s hyperdrive of his  _ first _ visit to Anakin’s homeworld--but found the idea of it too burdened with memories that still ached, even the happier ones; later, perhaps, when he was ready...even if he couldn’t go to Naboo, to visit Padme’s grave and say goodbye properly, he could take a moment for some kind of farewell to Anakin on  _ his _ homeworld.

But now Ahsoka was here, and just being together, perhaps, was something of a memorial to their lost friends.

“...I miss them,” he said, finally, when the heaviness of the silence got to be too much.

“Me, too,” she said. “I don’t...I don’t know if it’s the same, because you and Anakin and Padme…”

He blinked, startled, and set down his tea before he could spill it. “Me and...you knew?”

She rolled her eyes, and gave him a little laugh that was maybe halfway to a sob anyway.  _ “How _ much time did I spend with the three of you, Master?”

The old title felt like a blanket settled on his shoulder; even if Anakin had been her  _ official _ Master, the two of them had...had shared responsibility for training her. Something unspoken, for the most part, but they’d all known.

And Padme...Padme had been somewhere between an elder sister and a mother to their apprentice. And Obi-Wan had--no, it wasn’t the same, but he knew something similar to that grief, he thought.

Again, his mind went back to that first mission, where they’d all met, though they were still a decade and more from realizing what they would be to one another.

“My...my relationship with them does not lessen your loss,” he said. “It’s just...different.”

She nodded, and at last took a sip of her tea. “It never bothered me,” she said, “if you were worried about what I’d think.”

“We weren’t, exactly,” Obi-Wan said, “just...it was...complicated. And there never seemed to be the right time to discuss it. I think...I think we would have told you, before going public.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he said, and smiled. “You were--are--a very...a very important part of our lives. Our...family.”

Even if it was down to the two of them now, that had  _ always _ been true. From the moment Anakin had accepted her on Christophsis. That had never changed; not when Obi-Wan had at last given up on his pretense of denial and joined Anakin and Padme, or when Ahsoka left the Order, or when Padme fell pregnant, or…

Or when everything had burned around them.

Very carefully, she set her mug down again, and pulled him into yet  _ another _ hug, which was really  _ far _ more tactile intimacy than he was used to from anyone  _ other _ than Anakin and Padme, but--

Well. She was here, she was  _ alive, _ and it was clearly something that gave  _ her _ comfort. Ahsoka had been somewhere between his daughter and his sister for years. For her, he could grow accustomed to this.

* * *

The next few hours, they spent in slowly filling one another in on what they’d been doing, how they had survived over the past few months.

He was not entirely surprised--he remembered what Anakin had told him of Fives’ death months before--but  _ profoundly _ grateful that...that at least Rex had been spared the horror of turning on his Jedi; that the chips Fives had tried to warn them of  _ were _ the cause of it, not anything their long-time companions and brothers-in-arms could control.

It may not have brought the Order back; and it may, in some ways, have made the tragedy  _ worse, _ by adding millions more victims to Palpatine’s machinations, and yet somehow he drew comfort from that fact.

When at last they finished (and Ahsoka had gotten off the table so they could have a proper meal he’d pieced together from what he had available; not the best balance for her, but for one meal it wouldn’t do her any harm), their conversation naturally flowed into the next logical thing to ask.

“What do we do now?” Ahsoka asked.

“That  _ is _ the question, isn’t it,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I’m still working on that part.”

She nodded. “But we’re going to fight back, right?”

“I plan to,” Obi-Wan said, “and if you want to stay, you’re more than welcome.” It was certainly what  _ he _ would prefer, despite all his earlier worries about the risks to any partner he took on. And given how Ahsoka had been acting since they’d made contact in that cantina, he was fairly certain Ahsoka would agree. But he had to offer her the opportunity to make her own choice, rather than assuming. “I trust your skills, and it would be good to have a...a friend with me. But it will be dangerous. More so, possibly, than even your time in solitude was before. I am prepared to face this alone--”

“Not a chance,” Ahsoka said. “I’m staying.” She paused. “I know I left before, and if you’re…”

He shook his head. “You did what was best for you,” he said. “I can’t say I wasn’t grieved to see you go--we all were--but I understood.”

He then hesitated for a moment, because on the one hand, admitting to her that he’d recused himself would be...defensive, and not entirely fair to--to those who weren’t here to defend themselves and their actions.

On the other...some things needed to be said, if only to clear the air between them. Otherwise any hurt she still carried, however justified, might well come back to haunt them at the worst possible time.

“And...I’m sorry,” he said, “for what happened.” Whatever else he might say, about his own choices or the Council’s,  _ that _ was the unequivocal truth.

She nodded, gave him a quick smile--acceptance; and a willingness to put it behind her and move on--and something in the set of her shoulders relaxed. “Okay, then. That’s settled. We’ll fight this thing together.”

“As soon as we figure out how,” Obi-Wan said, following her lead and her subject change willingly. They had said what needed to be said; best not to bury themselves in it. “I’ll admit, it’s...daunting. Figuring out where to start. We can’t go to Coruscant. We should most likely avoid anywhere close to the Core, at least for the time being.”

_ What few allies we might have left there are...well. I’ve been over that and over that. Senator Organa, perhaps, but I would not like to put him at risk. Some of Padme’s other allies…but then we run into the same problem, assuming I haven’t misjudged them. _

“So, we start small and local,” Ahsoka said. “It might not do much, but it keeps us moving.” She frowned. “...maybe we should focus on information sites. Relay stations, communications dishes, that kind of thing. Or supply lines, things like that?”

He considered that, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “That’s...not a bad idea,” he said.  _ Relatively soft targets, for the most part, but given the resources we have, it’s probably the best way to strike out at Palpatine’s--at Imperial infrastructure in the short term,  _ and _ start to gain traction for long-range planning. Particularly if we  _ do _ manage to hit a comm center of some sort. _

She beamed across the table at him. “Great, we have a plan now,” she said.

“We have a  _ target _ now,” he corrected her. “The  _ plan  _ is still a work in progress.”

“Yeah, okay, fair enough.”

“Although,” he said, “I think that our first priority should actually be to set ourselves up with our own basic needs. I already have a few taps into low-level databases, which should provide us with general strike locations, and then we can do more detailed reconnaissance in person. But the ship I’ve been using is...less than ideal.”

“Yeah,” she said. “But I can probably fix it up some. Anakin...he taught me a lot.”

“I know,” he said. “But I’m afraid in order to suit our purposes, this ship might need an entire new sublight drive, and I’m not sure how much longer I trust the hyperdrive, either.” True, both  _ were  _ better than his first ship had been, particularly the hyperdrive, but still nowhere  _ near _ what he would like to have.

She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, okay,  _ that,  _ I can’t fix. I’ll look at it first, though, maybe I’ll see something you didn’t?”

He nodded. “And after that...medical supplies, emergency rations, throwaway comms. And…” He grimaced a little, remembering the acrid stench of what was left of Grievous igniting. “Weapons.”

“...right,” Ahsoka said, suddenly a bit more subdued. “Weapons.”

“I’ll see what I can find in that department while you check out the ship,” Obi-Wan said. “The rest, we can scour the markets and pick up at a few different places.”

“Okay,” she said. “Also, if you don’t think it’s weird, I can supplement any rations we buy. Protein, anyway. I haven’t had to yet, so it’s been a while, but I do know how to hunt.”

“I don’t have any personal issue with that, no,” he said. “But I think we’ll probably want to avoid it if possible. Depending on what local regulations are like, I’d prefer not to have any trouble of that kind.”

“Yeah, good point,” she said.

“But,” he said, glancing at the chrono, “it’s getting late. And it’s been…”

“A long day,” she said. “Good, but long.”

“Yes,” he said, with a faint smile. “The rest of this can wait until the morning, I think. The ship  _ does  _ have two bunks, so neither of us will have to sleep in the cockpit--I can show you after we clean up.”

“Sounds good,” she said, and got up from the table, bringing her dishes around to the little sink.

They lapsed into an easy, comfortable silence as they worked; and--well, the world was still in ruins all around them, and they still had a vast Empire to fight, but…

It all seemed so much more possible than it had this morning, now Obi-Wan was no longer alone.


	9. Part 2, Chapter 4: Anakin

Anakin’s body woke up faster than his mind and he was on his feet before he realized what was going on.

It was the sharp stab of pain from his ribs that cut through the raw adrenaline,  _ forcing _ him to take a second or two to catch his breath and get his bearings.

He’d stuck to his rules pretty well, he thought, over the months since he’d left Mandalore; staying on the move, working his way around this sector to disrupt nascent Imperial operations as best he could. He wasn’t seeing results yet, but he was fighting. He was pushing on. That mattered.

This last mission had been a practical one. He’d needed fuel and other supplies, so he’d attacked a depot not far from Kaller, and it had gone--

_ Well, sooner or later, there was bound to be a mission that  _ didn’t _ go my way. _

He’d done his best to rely on Mandalorian techniques on his way out, to avoid identifying himself as a Jedi and heightening the Imperial presence in this system any more than he had to. He’d fought his way to the hangar, stolen one of the new fighters the base was stocked with--and  _ oh,  _ those first few minutes in flight had been a surge of  _ joy  _ like he’d thought he’d never feel again; the pure, simple adrenaline rush of a fast, responsive ship...

Of course, whether because it was a prototype or by design, the ship he’d stolen hadn’t been fitted with shields. He was the best damn pilot in the galaxy, but there was a limit to what even  _ he  _ could pull off, especially in an unfamiliar ship and heavily outnumbered.

He’d managed to extract himself from the wreckage; practiced applying the kind of low-level mental filter Obi-Wan had tried to teach him ages ago--not a true mind trick, just a vague sense of disinterest in his general area.

It had worked, but he’d known better than to stay there in case the search party doubled back; he’d dragged himself to a better hiding place and--

Then woken up. He still wasn’t sure why.

It wasn’t a threat, exactly; the urgency didn’t feel  _ dangerous. _ Or, at least, not to Anakin himself.

Most important, though, it felt nothing like his nightmares, past or present; had nothing to do with the voice still echoing in his mind. Whatever it was, it was definitely a thread he should follow and investigate more carefully.

He clipped his lightsaber back to his belt, shifting the jacket he’d picked up two weeks back to cover it--not that he was planning on using it; that’s what his blaster was for; but it was  _ always _ with him--then closed his eyes and took a breath, drawing on the Force for a little extra energy and to mask the pain from what was probably a cracked rib or two. Whatever it was that was calling him toward Plateau City with such urgency, he’d need to be able to  _ move _ to meet it.

(Padme and Obi-Wan wouldn’t have approved, exactly--well, under the circumstances, maybe they’d forgive him--and he’d’ve gotten an earful and a half from K--from Master Che if he came back after pulling a stunt like this, but it was a new galaxy, and he had his  _ rules.) _

Once he felt a little steadier, and could draw at least a normal-sized breath without wanting to pass out, he opened his eyes again, made sure the blaster Bo-Katan had given him was easily accessible, and set off to see what Plateau City had to offer.

* * *

It took Anakin longer than he’d hoped to make it into the city, but that sense of urgent  _ purpose _ never wavered.

Once within the city limits, he slowed down, doing his best to act natural as he drifted through the market and taking note of where any Imperial troops were positioned and the patterns they used on their patrols.

He was  _ close, _ he knew, to whatever he was looking for, but it was almost a half hour before anything specific caught his attention.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a Human kid, maybe twelve or thirteen, too-casually drifting towards a stand, selling basic local food staples.

There was something painfully familiar in the way the boy moved, even with his clumsy attempts to hide it, and the Force was  _ humming _ around him; Anakin’s chest tightened in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with his ribs.

Anakin approached the stand from a different angle than the kid, where he’d be a little less conspicuous, and took a few more seconds to study him and figure out exactly what he had in mind.

He recognized the boy now, from briefings during the last few months of the war; Master Billaba’s Padawan; what was his name--Kalen? Kanan?  _ Caleb, _ that was it.

Caleb’s plan, now that Anakin was in a better position to observe, was easy enough to work out--use the Force to jostle another display and cause a distraction, nip in and grab what he needed and be out of sight before the stall owner’s attention refocused. Simple, straightforward, making good use of being small and inconspicuous, even considering that he wasn’t a member of the dominant local species. Anakin had done similar things himself, as a kid--though usually he’d have Kitster with him to make the grab while he was distracting, or the other way around.

The only problem was, Caleb had missed a step.

He probably couldn’t see from his angle, but there were a couple local security guys less than a block away. They’d come running as soon as they heard the commotion, and there was no  _ way _ Caleb would get clear before they spotted him. Not without giving himself away to anyone else who might not fall for his ruse. And, yeah, an ordinary street kid, stealing,  _ might _ get ignored by passers-by, but a--a  _ survivor… _

True, the guards Anakin had noticed weren’t Imperial, but they were probably aware enough to call in backup if they guessed what they were dealing with.

Anakin weighed his options. If he could circle around fast enough to stop Caleb directly (and, most important,  _ quietly)  _ that would be best. He might have just enough time if he moved with purpose; he could already feel Caleb’s focus narrowing. He shifted to intercept--

\--and twisted just a hair too far in the wrong direction and saw stars for a precious second, blinking them away  _ just _ in time to hear the cart clatter over.

_ Kriff. _

Okay. New plan.

He doubled down on pain suppression, hoping that splitting his focus like this wouldn’t screw him over, and stepped out into the open, crossing the alley to come up next to Caleb and hopefully block him from view just as the local watch came barreling around the corner.

The kid instantly realized that he’d been caught red-handed; he glanced up at Anakin and froze for a second, eyes widening in recognition and disbelief.

Anakin shook his head once, turning partway to keep one eye on Caleb and the other on the approaching Trouble.

Caleb nodded, a thousand little microexpressions flashing across his face, before shifting his stance and settling into Anakin’s shadow, waiting for further instructions.

_ Smart move, _ he admitted, as much as he’d rather have Caleb clear of the probable confrontation, just in case.  _ Bolting now would just draw attention. _

Now, as for the smart move on  _ his _ part--he’d rather avoid killing locals if he had any choice, especially when fighting in a tight-packed urban area with a  _ lot _ of civilians potentially in range; besides, bodies would just draw more attention he and Caleb couldn’t afford.

“You there,” one of the watch members, the apparent leader, said. “Hands up. Remove your weapon from its holster and kick it over to me.” He and his fellows didn’t have their guns on Anakin-- _ yet _ \--but they were wary; one eye on him, one on the downed cart, as the local citizens backed away, giving them room.

“My--well, what do you want me to do?” he asked, trying to mimic the disarming, charming smile he’d seen Obi-Wan wear  _ countless  _ times in situations like this; to smooth things over and defuse a confrontation before it exploded in their faces. “Put my hands up or take my gun out?”

“Don’t be cute,” he said. “Weapon on the ground. And step away from the cart.”

“All right,” he said; he put one hand in the air and slowly began to unhook his holster. “But you’re looking in the wrong place, I promise you, I haven’t done anything. I wish I  _ could _ tell you what happened, but I just got here, found the cart overturned…”

“Uh-huh. Nice try,” he said. “Gun on the ground. And empty your pockets.”

“My pockets?” he asked, mildly. “I mean, sure, if you want, but like I said, I only just got here, haven’t had much of a chance to--”

“I’m not going to ask you again.”

And  _ that _ would be a gun in his face.

...well, it was worth a shot anyway.

Anakin moved fast, faster than the local watch could, switched his blaster to stun as he pulled it out, and fired at the closest of the three guards.

_ End this fast, _ he thought, taking half a step back as the Kalleran dropped.  _ Limit pursuit, get clear with the-- _

He felt something soft and heavy being pressed into his hand--a blanket, curtain, some kind of heavy cloth from the next stall down.

_...good thinking. _

Anakin took the cloth and, with a little  _ nudge _ to make sure it opened at just the right time and flew true, tossed it at the two remaining guards, tangling them up and buying some time.

_ “Run,” _ he told Caleb, giving him a little push to get him started.

Caleb didn’t hesitate, but grabbed Anakin’s hand before obeying; almost as if he was afraid Anakin would stay behind if he didn’t cling tight.

Anakin pulled his hand away after half a block--better to keep it free, just in case--but followed Caleb close, relying on that momentary distraction and the kid’s superior knowledge of the area to get them clear.

Anakin fired two more stun bolts over his shoulder, relying on instinct to know when and where to aim, and, after ten minutes of ducking and weaving and reminding himself to breathe, they came to a halt in what looked like yet another dead-end alley.

He leaned against the wall, hoping he was being at least a  _ little _ subtle about it. “You okay, kid?” he asked. “Hurt at all?”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“We’re a little more exposed out here than I like,” he said. “You got somewhere less open?”

Caleb nodded. “Through here,” he said, indicating a broken piece of wall that even  _ he _ probably couldn’t get through upright. And, based on the troubled look on the kid’s face, Anakin wasn’t holding things together quite as well as he’d hoped.

“I’m fine,” he said, bracing himself and pushing away from the wall. “After you.”

He practically had to bend over double to get into Caleb’s hiding place, which was--fun. There wasn’t much space beyond the entry either, but enough for him to slide down and sit leaning against the wall without the kid tripping over him.

It looked like it had been originally designed as a storage space, but later renovations on the building had gotten rid of the internal door without actually filling in the space or knocking out the inner wall. And then, when the building had fallen into disuse and disrepair, it had provided a haven for local rodents and other pests for a while, until Caleb moved in. Or maybe someone else like him, before, judging by some faded marks on the walls, like someone had tried to draw pictures and make it a little more homelike.

There was a pile of blankets in one corner that actually looked more comfortable than some of the field bivouacs Anakin had slept in over the years, and a small pile of miscellaneous things, bits and pieces he’d probably stolen to either try and pawn or because he thought they may have been useful.

No sign of  _ his  _ lightsaber, though, which meant he probably had it concealed on him somewhere. Good, that was safer.

“Here,” Caleb said, interrupting Anakin’s thoughts and pressing what appeared to be a standard-issue medkit into his hands. “I’d just restocked it before...everything. And I haven’t used it much.”

“...puts you a step ahead of me, kid,” Anakin admitted. Bo-Katan had given him some supplies before he left Mandalore, but those had run out...a long time ago.

He pried open the kit one-handed--the other he kept wrapped around his ribs; not that it actually made a difference, but it  _ felt _ like it did. He took a couple of the milder painkillers, the kind that were more for fever than actual pain; hopefully that would take the edge off a bit without knocking him out. He’d rather stay alert until they were a little further out of the danger zone.

After that...splints wouldn’t do anything for his ribs, and nothing else seemed broken. Any other injuries were fading into the background as well, which meant he could ignore them for now. He’d rather not risk a bone knitter without a scanner to make sure everything was lined up right...so, taping himself up to stabilize things would have to do. And there were two full or nearly-full rolls of bandages in there. That would work for now. He’d take another look once he was somewhere with a little more room to work.

“Can I help?” Caleb asked, when Anakin set the kit aside.

“Yeah, actually,” Anakin said, pushing himself away from the wall. This sort of thing was usually easier with an extra pair of hands.

Caleb brightened a little, and took the bandages to start wrapping.  _ Probably glad to have something concrete to do, _ Anakin thought.  _ I know I would be. _

“Um,” Caleb said, when they were about halfway done.

“Yeah?”

“...I’m sorry,” he said, all in a rush. “About earlier, in the market. I messed up, I didn’t have all the patrols down, I know, and…”

“Hey,” Anakin said. “Don’t worry about it. Look, you figured out what you did wrong,  _ and _ you thought quick and adapted once you realized you’d messed up. Most important, we both got away, and--I didn’t get hurt in the market, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s from earlier. Okay?”

“Okay,” Caleb said.

They finished taping Anakin’s ribs up in relative silence, and then Caleb mutely insisted on cleaning up a few other burns and incidentals that Anakin had been prepared to ignore at least for now, but...well, it seemed to make the kid happy, and it didn’t cost him anything but time.

“...what now?” Caleb asked, when he finished.

“Now,” Anakin said, easing back against the wall and letting Caleb deal with repacking the kit, “we lie low for a couple hours, then figure out a way offplanet.”  _ Because I sure as hell can’t stay and I don’t think you should anymore, either. You’ve done a damn good job surviving this long, but...better to be somewhere they’re less likely to know your face. _

Which  _ did _ beg the question of what to do with Caleb once they were out of the system. Anakin couldn’t exactly bring him along on his mission. That was still one of his rules, for one thing. Besides, Caleb was still just a kid, and even if he  _ had _ fought in the last month or two of the War, this mission was, in a lot of ways, even more dangerous. No backup, no supplies, limited resources, almost the entire galaxy actively against them…

But that, he decided, was tomorrow’s problem.

“What about the ship you came in?” Caleb asked.

He shook his head. “No shields or hyperdrive. Plus, I crashed it.” The fact that it was a one-man fighter was also less than ideal, but Caleb was small and Anakin had had less-comfortable trips. If it had been viable, he would’ve made it work.

“...that explains a lot.”

“Hey,” Anakin said, but without any real heat in it, despite the way Caleb’s tone, and how similar it was to when Ahsoka got--well,  _ snippy  _ with him--hurt a little. ...maybe more than a little.

“Sorry,” Caleb said, ducking his head, but not sounding all  _ that _ sorry at all.

If Anakin had known him better, and had one available, he might’ve thrown a pillow or something at him. As it was, he just rolled his eyes. “So, anyway, we’ll have to get our hands on one, but I can fly just about anything.  _ Without _ crashing, thank you.”

Caleb, who had absolutely most definitely not been about to comment on that, asked, “Where will we go?”

“I’ll drop you off as soon as I figure out where,” Anakin said. Which would...not be easy. The number of places where a kid his age could be dropped off on his own without drawing more attention than Caleb could afford was...small. Very small.

Then again, given how much even  _ breathing _ with any more force or depth than normal hurt, Anakin had to admit he should probably take a week or two to lie low and heal. Despite his rules. He could use that time to research, and hopefully come up with a decent place for Caleb to stay by the time he was ready to get back to his mission.

“...why can’t I stay with you?”

_...yeah, I should’ve seen that coming. _ “It’s not safe,” he said. “Look, I  _ know _ you have some combat experience, and you’ve done really well on your own, but this mission...it’s different. I’m not bringing someone half-trained into this.”

“But you could teach me,” he tried. “I know I--I know I messed up before, and I  _ know _ there’s stuff I don’t know, but...but I could help you. I  _ know _ I could, if you just show me how.”

Anakin flinched internally. “No,” he said, because what else  _ could _ he say. “Even if it  _ were _ possible...I’m not the kind of Master you want.”

“But I heard stories, about you and Padawan Tano--”

“Don’t--” Anakin cut himself off, took a breath to calm down, waited for the answering burst of pain to fade, and tried again. “I got...lucky, with Ahsoka. And I had--I had my old Master to help. But I’m not...there are things I...need to relearn. I can’t teach you, or anyone else, until I do.”  _ I’m not a very good Jedi, kid. I’m not...I’m not even sure I’m a good  _ person, _ but you don’t need to know that. There’s so much...so many bad habits, that the Chancellor fed in me and I never learned the  _ right _ way to do so many things. I’m  _ not  _ going to pass those on to you. _

Caleb considered that for a moment. “Master...Master Billaba said once that...that she learned more teaching me than she ever did studying on her own.”

“I’m sure she did,” Anakin said. He’d heard the same from...from a lot of people. Including Obi-Wan. And it had been  _ his _ experience with Ahsoka, too. “But even if that applied here--and I’m not sure it does--I’m sorry, Caleb. It’s not an option right now. It’s not safe for you to stay with me.”

“But--”

He shook his head. “That’s final.”

And the absolutely  _ crushed _ look on Caleb’s face was--that swirl of guilt and grief and  _ loss _ that resonated with something deep at Anakin’s core was...was…

Devastating.

“Look, I didn’t mean…” He trailed off, because he’d said exactly what he meant. “It won’t be right away,” he said. “It’ll take me a while to find somewhere to leave you. Okay?”

Caleb looked up at him, something like hope starting to flare behind his eyes.

Anakin groaned internally. _ “Don’t _ think you can use that time to change my mind,” he said. “All right? Because it’s not going to happen. My decision is final.”

“Understood, Master,” Caleb said, not-so-surreptitiously wiping his sleeve over his eyes.

“Not your Master,” Anakin corrected him.

“Okay,” he said, but there was something in the  _ way _ he said it…

_...deal with that later, _ Anakin decided.  _ You’ve been as clear as you can be for now, and he’ll get the picture eventually. Just...stay clear on what you expect from him and what you’re willing to give. _

“Okay,” he replied. “Now. What can you tell me about the port?”


	10. Part 2, Chapter 5: Padme

A few hours each afternoon at the Blackbird had done more or less what Padme had hoped it would. It had helped with the feelings of stagnation and helplessness, and it had eased her back into something like public life.

Nowhere near what she’d had before, of course, but that was never going to be an option.

It had been harder than she’d expected, the first few shifts. Being away from the twins, even for just a couple hours. She’d spent the last few months centering her entire life around them, and it was a shift. It was a  _ major _ shift.

Still, she’d settled into her new routine pretty quickly, and overall, she thought she was, if not  _ happier, _ at least steadier. More solid. More like herself again.

But she was still troubled, and frustrated, by a lot of things. How limited she and Sabe were in their ability to respond to things, for one. Especially since, as they’d half-guessed before leaving Alderaan, the Empire had started construction on a base just outside the port about six weeks after she’d started work at the bar.

And that change, and the  _ reactions _ to it, had brought some of those nebulous feelings of unease right into the foreground.

It wasn’t the fear that bothered her. There were whispers in the corners, even in her early shifts, of what that might mean for the town, for business, for daily life.

It wasn’t even the cautious hope and ambition, here and there. Whatever else it represented, some of the cantina’s neighbors were businesses that would probably do a lot better, financially, with the troopers as occasional customers. And Padme had to admit, even leaving aside the benefit to their mission from overhearing soldiers’ gossip, that the Blackbird was probably one of them.

No, what bothered her was the sense of  _ resignation. _ Of  _ apathy. _

Even the people who were afraid just seemed to accept that that was the way things were. After three years of war and six months of the illusion of peace, it seemed that the people here were unwilling or unable to hope for change for the better. Let alone try to act to  _ make  _ that change happen.

And maybe the worst part was that she knew that, on some level, that that was a practical necessity. How many times had she and Bail discussed it, during those last few days on Alderaan; how they had to take things slowly, how they had to build momentum and a movement first, how moving too hard and too fast would do nothing except give the galaxy more martyrs to mourn?

But there was a difference between taking things slowly but keeping that hope for a better future alive, however faint it might be, and just…giving in.

Which was what she and Sabe were discussing, after putting the twins down for their nap one afternoon; a local religious observance that meant cantinas and certain other businesses had to close for the day, which gave them the time to talk.

“I haven’t seen much significant change in response to the base, not yet.” Sabe poured each of them a cup of tea. “You?”

“No, not exactly,” Padme said. “Just...subtle things.”

She raised one eyebrow. “I know that tone. What are you planning?”

“I’m not suggesting a change in our overall mission,” she said, “which is to observe and report, and start recruiting when the time is right. I know that. And I know we’re not ready to accelerate. We don’t have the setup to bring in new people. Not yet.. But...I’ve been thinking.”

“You want to do something more active, as well,” Sabe guessed.

“Yes.”

She frowned. “I’m not quite sure I follow. Other than accelerating...which, you’re right, we’re not ready for, especially before we know how to work around the garrison.”

“It’s like I said, when I started working at the Blackbird in the first place,” Padme said. “The longer we stay in stasis, the worse things will be, until they either explode or freeze over and the Emperor wins. I’m not saying recruit. I’m not saying strike out at the base or anyone in particular, just...if all we do is watch and wait, I don’t think there will be anyone  _ to _ recruit when we get there.”

Sabe didn’t answer right away, mulling that over. “...what did you have in mind?”

“A message,” she said, “or maybe a series of messages.”

“That carries its own risks,” Sabe pointed out. “The HoloNet isn’t as anonymous as some would think.”

“True,” Padme said. “But if we stick to audio transmission, rather than text-based messages...we can modify our transmitter, our crypt module, keep those transmissions short and irregular...that’ll cut down on a lot of the risk.”

Sabe nodded. “What kind of messages?”

“That depends,” Padme said, “on what we hear, on what we see…but we can refute propaganda, for one thing. And Remind people that the galaxy wasn’t always like this, and there  _ are _ people who still believe in truth and justice and freedom. Remind people that we  _ can _ fight this, in time, as long as we don’t give up hope.”

It was something she’d been thinking about for a while, actually, though it wasn’t until she started tracking those  _ reactions _ to the new base that it had all crystalized in her mind.

Things were different for Sabe, probably, who sometimes seemed like she was made for work like this.  _ Made _ to be a spy. And, throughout most of the last six months, Padme had followed her old friend’s lead. Sabe was the one with the skills and temperament to get them through this mission. To keep them and the twins alive and free. So Padme had held her tongue and done nothing, despite hearing whispers of things that made her blood boil for  _ action, _ over and over again, whenever she ran the bar.

Because for Padme--it wasn’t that silence and secrecy and distraction and observation weren’t valuable tools of hers, but they weren’t her  _ primary _ weapon.

That was, and always had been, her  _ voice. _

She had needed time to build up her knowledge base about the new world she was living in, to figure out  _ how _ to use it without sacrificing everything she had left, and time to recenter herself, until  _ she _ was ready to move.

But she had that now. She knew  _ exactly _ what she needed to do.

“That...that could work,” Sabe said. “Especially if you’re right, and we can get the crypt module up to the level we’d need.”

They didn’t have Elle, who had been the best with this kind of thing among her Senate handmaidens, or--or Anakin, who was…

_ Stop. Stop it. Focus. Figure this out. _

But they  _ did _ have Artoo. With his help, and maybe some of Threepio’s knowledge of obscure languages and codes, Padme was sure she and Sabe could handle the necessary modifications to their tech.

“It can, and it will,” Padme said. “We maintain the Blackbird, obviously, keep up our other mission, but this...this is  _ important, _ Sabe.”

Sabe nodded, and just like that, the decision was made, and with a speed that Padme had always admired, her handmaiden switched to practicalities. “Have you thought about what name you’ll use?”

“...not exactly,” Padme said. Obviously, she couldn’t use her current legal name, let alone her  _ real _ name. “But...would it be too obvious, or too dangerous, if it were some kind of bird?” True, she had no intention of making any of her speeches from the Blackbird. She’d work with the droids to set up a soundproof recording room, here at the house; it would be safer to keep the two missions separate as much as possible. But they were in this together, and she wanted their separate aspects of this work to reflect one another.

Sabe considered for a moment. “No,” she finally said. “I think it’s generic enough that unless someone is already actively investigating  _ both _ of us, it’ll be difficult to make a connection.”

“Redbird, then,” Padme said. She wasn’t totally sure where it came from, but it made sense. Sabe’s work, quietly moving information--and, maybe someday, people and supplies--through the shadows in the Blackbird, was quiet; blending in. Padme, if she began to speak, would be visible. Audible. A red bird, a splash of color against a grim, uncaring sky.

“Redbird,” Sabe echoed, then smiled. “It suits you.”

Padme beamed back. “Redbird it is,” she said, settling into her chair with her hands curled around her warm cup of tea; half of her mind already at work to plan out what Redbird’s very  _ first _ message might be.

It would probably be at least a few weeks before she and Artoo had the logistics worked out, but she could start on a draft tonight. She’d be ready.

When the time came, she was confident that she’d know  _ exactly  _ what to say.

* * *

Of course, when the time  _ did _ come, Padme wasn’t  _ quite _ as ready as she thought she would be. She’d gone through a dozen or more drafts before she had something she was mostly satisfied with, and still, there was a level of uncertainty she’d  _ never _ felt when addressing the Senate, or the Assembly on Naboo, or any number of other public remarks she’d made over the course of her career.

Normally, when Padme had a speech, she had some concept of her audience to focus on. Even if she wasn’t directly addressing a crowd that was physically  _ present, _ she  _ knew  _ who was listening.

But now, she only knew who she  _ hoped _ was listening. And even that was such a slim, chancy thing that it was hard to begin.

Still, she had to start  _ somewhere, _ and it was like she had told Sabe. This was important, and this was what she was  _ good _ at.

Luke and Leia were in a little baby enclosure next to her, where she could keep a close eye on them; they were starting to sit up and crawl around a little bit. She hadn’t seen--she hadn’t seen any indication of their fathers’ gifts in them. Not yet. Obi-Wan had told her what to look for, and she wasn’t sure whether to hope or dread when it finally came.

In any case, for the moment, they were quiet, asleep next to each other; though she doubted that would last more than a half hour. Teething had made them both pretty fussy.

So, she had all her equipment set up, and she had hopefully an hour of quiet, and no more reason to delay.

She checked, double-checked, and triple-checked all the connections and the crypt module, then activated the transmitter.

“This is Redbird,” she began. “I don’t know if anyone wants to hear this, but I wanted to speak. So many terrible things have happened over the past six months. And longer, I know, but...the price we’ve paid more recently is a particularly awful one.”

She took a breath, and a moment to collect her thoughts. “And it was all...planned. The Emperor...he spent a long time, building up to his takeover. And the--the slaughter of the Jedi. I know you’ve heard the official explanation, the propaganda, the attempted coup...it’s not true. I swear, on everything I hold dear, that if the Jedi attempted to remove Palpatine from power by force, it was only because they knew what he was already planning to do. I don’t know if I can make you believe me, but I will try, in days to come, to prove my case. And to expose new tragedies, when they occur.”

She paused; checked her timer; she should wrap up soon. Artoo had advised her to keep these under ninety seconds, at least until he’d finished tweaking some of the security measures. “But that’s for later. I promise you, those explanations will come. And if anyone  _ is _ listening, I just wanted to say that there is still hope out there. There is still good in this world, even with so many lights having gone out. There are still people who are willing to stand for truth and justice and freedom. All those things we all tried to fight for in the last war. Republic and Separatist alike, even if we didn’t always agree on how to find them. Remember that.”

Artoo flashed a warning at her; her time was up.

“This is Redbird,” she finished. “Signing off.”


	11. Part 2, Chapter 6: Anakin

After leaving Kaller, Anakin had had a pretty clear plan, at least for the short term--drop Caleb off as soon as he figured out a place with an at least kind of acceptable level of not-safe, and then move on.

But that was a hell of a lot easier said than done, especially since it meant putting his mission on hold, which he hated having to do. Still, he couldn’t exactly leave the kid behind either, and he  _ did _ need time for his ribs to heal. Even  _ he _ had to admit that.

Which was how the two of them had ended up parked on this isolated, mostly-uninhabited, freezing-cold nature preserve memory of a moon, where no one was likely to find them and Anakin could recover and plan his next move.

And think. Probably too much.

He and...and Padme had gotten stranded here before, following a tip from a thief about Separatist weapons research in the wake of their one and only major fight with Obi-Wan.

After the Rako Hardeen mess.

The three of them had made up here, too, of course, when Obi-Wan came to find them. They’d made a pact to communicate better, and figure out better boundaries. The idea was, the  _ next _ time something threatened to drive them apart, some conflict between, as Padme put it, their duty to the Republic and their duty to each other, they’d be better equipped to handle it.

Which was part of why he’d gone to Utapau with Obi-Wan. They were approaching another crisis point, focused on  _ him _ this time, even if none of them had really  _ known _ it yet; but between his assignment to spy on the Chancellor, and his nightmares, and...and so many other things--all the  _ changes _ that the baby meant for their lives, the almost  _ physically _ palpable tension in the air...they’d known. Somehow, they’d known.

So, when Obi-Wan and Padme had suggested the change in plans, he’d remembered the pact they’d made, and  _ listened, _ and followed their lead.

It was…both easier and harder than he’d expected, walking across this plain again, this time with Caleb. Easier in that, for all the pain they’d experienced here, he and Padme and Obi-Wan had left happier and even closer than they had been before the fight, and the place felt  _ peaceful, _ as a result. Warm and welcoming, despite the wind.

Harder because--well, those memories were bittersweet, because everyone he loved, everything they’d built here, was  _ gone. _

He wasn’t sure if it was to punish himself or to try and push himself past it, in some way, but when he’d seen this system in range, it felt right, bringing Caleb here.

The thief’s cache where he and Padme had stayed was gone; it looked like the building itself had been torched at some point after they’d left; but this time, he and Caleb had a perfectly viable and intact ship they could use for shelter until it was time to move on.

In the meantime, Caleb kept  _ suggesting  _ things. Little things for them to do together, like meditating for a while; or asking questions when Anakin started improving the ship they’d stolen. Almost like he was trying to prove what a good, clever apprentice he could be and convince Anakin to change his mind about leaving him behind at the first opportunity.

Anakin could see right through him, of course, and had absolutely no intention of falling for it. And he’d done his best to make the situation and their relationship clear to Caleb from the start. He wasn’t looking for  _ any _ kind of partner, let alone an apprentice, and he didn’t want the kid to get his hopes up. Even leaving his rules aside, the  _ last _ thing he needed was to bond with someone else he’d just lose in the end. Or, even worse, put  _ Caleb  _ through that kind of horror again.

But keeping the kid at a distance…wasn’t easy. Not just because Caleb was in no way misrepresenting himself or his capabilities, but--well, it was only the two of them out here, and since there wasn’t any massive personality clash or anything, they talked and interacted and fell into sort of a natural rhythm.

Every morning since they’d landed, Anakin would get up first, make some caf, and do a few careful stretches to check how his ribs were healing. Caleb would join him an hour or two later and put together some actual food and needle Anakin until he gave in and they either meditated or talked for a while. Usually about general things, but sometimes…sometimes they touched on harder subjects.

After that, Anakin would work on the ship for a while, keeping an eye on Caleb while he went through some more physical practice, occasionally offering him a correction or advice.

Not because he’d changed his mind about making this permanent, of course. Just because he didn’t want the kid to get into bad habits or hurt himself when he was on his own. That was all.

Still, he had to admit the kid was growing on him a little bit. Which was all the more reason to leave him behind as soon as he could, of course. The longer he put it off, the harder it would be.

(Anakin hadn’t realized how  _ lonely  _ he’d been until he had Caleb around to talk to.)

But he still had his mission, and after just over three weeks, his ribs were as healed as he was willing to wait for. That was one of his rules, after all--work alone, and don’t stop. He’d picked up on a decent target; an Imperial ammunition factory within striking distance. It was time, probably  _ past _ time, to move on.

The problem, of course, was what to do with Caleb.

Despite genuinely trying to think of something, and researching on the ‘net while in between researching potential missions, Anakin was no closer to figuring out a long-term haven for the kid than he had been when they’d landed here. If the cache were still available as shelter, he might just leave him here, at least for a couple days. It wasn’t suitable for a long-term home, but Caleb was smart and capable. He’d be fine on his own for a week or so.

Of course, the cache was gone, and smart and capable wouldn’t keep the kid from freezing to death or being attacked by the local fauna if he seemed like easy prey.

That meant Anakin had to bring Caleb along. And find some way to keep him on the ship and out of trouble.

Caleb, of course, knew that something had changed the moment he woke up.

“Are we leaving?”

“Yeah,” Anakin said. “I’ve got a job to do, and I’ve put it on hold long enough.”

He nodded. “Right. What do you need me to do?”

_ …it can’t  _ possibly  _ be that easy. _

“Stay on the ship,” he said. “I still don’t have a safe place to leave you, so--”

“I can help!” Caleb interrupted.

“Nope.”

“But--”

“Caleb,” he said. “I said no. You’re staying on the ship, okay?”

Caleb glowered at him for a minute; Anakin did his best to keep his face impassive, like the senior Masters who had stared him down when  _ he _ got bratty as a kid.

“…fine,” Caleb muttered, and sulked off out of the cockpit.

* * *

Of course, when he got close enough to the factory to do some pre-mission recon, it got complicated.

He was able to slice past the first couple layers of the facility’s security, deep enough to get a general schematic and work out the best way to take it down  _ without _ trapping all the workers inside.

Figuring out when to strike wasn’t a problem, at least--this factory’s quotas didn’t require round-the-clock shifts; he could go in the middle of the night to limit collateral.

Figuring out where to place his charges  _ also _ wasn’t a problem--the schematic was clear enough on that.

Getting in and out, and making his way around the factory and its security systems, on the other hand…

It looked like, rather than springing for active security, whether living beings or droids, management had put the majority of their resources into the electronic system, though they did keep a skeleton crew on site in case the alarms were tripped. There were a series of locks throughout the factory, most on a timer, and while he  _ could _ probably slice each one manually as he went through, that would take time, and make it more likely for him to get caught. And Anakin couldn’t see much of a way to avoid that, unfortunately. Not by himself, not if he had to split his time and focus between the locks, the cameras, any other sensors,  _ and  _ the actual sabotage he had planned.

The  _ best _ way to pull this off was to have someone in the system to manipulate the locks in real time while he did his job and set the explosives. If he’d still had Artoo--

But he’d left Artoo on Coruscant with Padme, and he…he had no idea what had happened to his friend after that.

Not that he was  _ worried, _ because Artoo was and always had been the most capable of  _ all _ of them, and most people underestimated droids. He just…missed him, that was all.

_ Focus. You have a problem right in front of you to solve. Can’t do anything about one six months in the past. _

He could  _ probably _ find another way around the automated system, but it would take maybe  _ weeks _ of work and while this factory was a good target, it wasn’t  _ that _ good. Especially since he’d already spent three weeks idle.

So. Back to the drawing board. Working through on his own would take too long and risk capture, and he didn’t have Artoo to help...

…but he did have Caleb.

Anakin winced internally. He didn’t want to involve the kid in  _ any  _ of this. Even from a distance, it could put Caleb in danger, and it might  _ encourage _ him in his hopes that Anakin would change his mind and let him stay.

But involving him was the only viable option, other than giving up on this factory entirely, which Anakin didn’t want to do, either. 

Of course, first he had to find out if Caleb even had the right skillset, or could be coached through it quickly enough. Right after he’d told Caleb, in no uncertain terms, that he was sitting this mission out.

_ Well, if he can’t help me, he can’t, and I’ll have to find something else. But if he can... _

He weighed staying idle for another couple weeks against bringing Caleb in on this,  _ strictly _ in a non-combat support capacity, and decided the second was the lesser of two evils.

That settled, he made his way over to the berth Caleb had claimed, and tapped on the door once.

“It’s me,” he said; not super necessary, since who else  _ would _ it be. “Open the door, I need to ask you something. Okay?”

There was a brief moment of silence, then the sound of Caleb’s feet hitting the deck, and the door slid open.

Caleb was still clearly upset at being shut out, but at least he wasn’t sulking or ignoring him or any other things Anakin definitely did not remember doing when  _ he _ was a teenager in a Mood.

“So. You any good at slicing?” Anakin asked.

He blinked, then perked up as he caught on. “I guess? I mean, I’ve done some before, and I took a couple classes--does this mean I get to help after all?”

And the way he said it, the way his face and voice lit up, was--almost painful. And  _ familiar. _

He convinced himself, after a few seconds, that he was just remembering  _ himself _ at that age, and not another stubborn, eager teenager trying to take her place beside him.

“You will help  _ from here,” _ he said. “I’ll get you into the system, but there’ll be more firewalls and safeguards past the outer layers of security. Basically, I need someone to manipulate the locks and cameras so I can get in and out of the factory the way I need to. Think you can do that?”

Caleb started to say something, then stopped, frowning a little. “I’ve never done anything that big before,” he admitted. “But I can do it. I  _ will _ figure it out.”

“I’ll show you some tricks,” Anakin said. “Once we’re in, you can follow me on the cameras and work it out as we go. But, again, you  _ stay on the ship, _ okay?”

“I will,” he said.

“Not just because I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said, because he remembered all too clearly how  _ he _ would’ve obeyed an order like that at this age, “but because I  _ need _ you on those cameras. Got it?”

“Got it,” Caleb said, a little more firmly this time.

“Okay, good,” Anakin said. “Let’s get to work.”


	12. Part 2, Chapter 7: Anakin

Anakin’s plan was straightforward enough and for the most part, it all went like clockwork; Caleb managed to guide him through the factory and around cameras and alarms with no problems.

In fact, things were just on the _edge_ of going _too_ smoothly--but there _had_ been one slightly awkward point where he had to hide in a supply closet for about a half-hour. It wasn’t much, but it was _just_ enough to keep Anakin from getting twitchy, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Still, even with that delay, placing the bombs and setting up the detonators so he could set them all off on his way out took him only a little more than the two hours he’d planned, around the security patrols.

Anakin was _almost_ free and clear when--right on schedule--everything went wrong.

It wasn’t Caleb’s fault, or his own; just crap timing. He still had about ten minutes before the next walkthrough, but one of the night guards on duty just _happened_ to be heading for the ‘fresher at the exact wrong moment.

When she turned the corner, he was halfway down the hall with no nearby doors to duck into; while he _could_ make the jump, the hallway was too wide for him to brace against the ceiling and avoid her that way.

_Kriff._

“Nothing to see here,” Anakin said, reaching out with a gentle nudge of the Force; a mind trick was his _only_ hope of getting out of this without anyone getting hurt. “Move along.”

The guard’s mind resisted; Anakin pushed a little harder; and then she slipped from his grasp.

_Kriff--!_

She hit a panic button on her belt, pulled out her blaster, and started firing.

He dodged to one side--no cover, but the advantage to a wide hallway meant he could duck and weave and since _he_ could move faster than she could, he made it through without getting hit; he pulled out his blaster as he went and fired a stun bolt in her direction; he knew as soon as he pulled the trigger his aim was off; it only grazed her, spinning her around and leaving her dazed but still conscious on the ground.

He leapt over her and kept moving, fast as he could; the nearest exit was a straight shot from here; he’d originally planned to avoid it since he’d have to go right past the main security station to reach it, but there was no hope for it now. They already knew he was here, and if he made it that far, there would _probably_ be more cover than this karking empty hallway.

Booted footsteps were already heading his way, but he pressed on, reaching the door to the security station a split second before they did.

The team of two armed guards who had responded to their companion’s alert froze for a split second, staring at him.

Anakin did not.

He fired two quick stun blasts--his aim was better this time--and then dove to one side, just out of sight, as an answering handful of blaster bolts came from the two guards left in the security station.

Cautiously, he poked his head around, and swore internally. Even with the Force, getting a good angle to return fire and actually keep them _down_ would be a hell of a lot easier said than done; not to mention he’d only accounted for five of the seven guards who were supposed to be on duty right now; the others could turn up and cause problems for him at any time.

_Okay. Here’s the plan. Charge in there, try not to get hit, get to the first cover I can, see if that gives me a better angle. Then keep going, keep doing that, until I make it to the other side; exit is only a dozen meters past the door. Easy. No problem. I can do this._

He took a breath, centered himself, and then executed his strategy.

Somehow, he made it to a couch halfway across the room without getting shot; he could smell singed wool from his tunic but there was no pain.

_Score one for me._

Another volley of blaster bolts hit the couch, sending its synthetic stuffing flying into the air, but not penetrating far enough to hit him.

He closed his eyes rather than looking, trying to get a feel for where his two adversaries were, if he’d hit either of them, when--

There was a much _louder_ burst of blaster fire, and the wall behind the security guards blew apart, creating a brand-new, _much_ closer exit; the two still standing dove for cover.

_…I_ told _him to--_

Anakin didn’t waste any time thinking about it. He braced himself and, using the Force for speed and distance, vaulted over the couch and bolted past the guards; he smelled, rather than felt, another blaster bolt pass through his sleeve; and leapt onto the waiting ramp of the ship he and Caleb had stolen on Kaller.

“Go!” he shouted, slamming the button to seal the hatch, firing a few last shots into the factory for good measure; not expecting to hit anything.

The ship vibrated around him, then jerked awkwardly to one side as Caleb got clear of the factory. _Need to work on_ that _with him, too,_ Anakin thought, just barely catching his balance before he fell into the wall. _…wait, what am I saying. No, I don’t. He’s not_ staying.

He took a breath, and made his way towards the cockpit, nudging Caleb aside and taking over, heading all the way out of atmosphere and into hyperspace before he started to relax.

“Are you okay?” Caleb asked, as soon as he turned away from the console.

“I’m fine,” he said. “I thought I told you to stay in the ship.”

“I _did,”_ Caleb said. “…technically. But I saw her hit the alarm before I could shut it off and you were _trapped_ in there, and--”

“Stop,” Anakin said. “Just--just stop.” Because Caleb _had,_ technically, done what Anakin told him to do.

Much the same way Anakin himself had, _technically,_ done what Qui-Gon Jinn had told him to do a lifetime ago in Theed.

Caleb’s mouth clicked shut and he waited, almost unnaturally still with the tension of waiting for Anakin’s reaction.

“…you could’ve been killed,” he said.

“They couldn’t run the anti-air guns _and_ chase you,” Caleb said. “I _saw_ the schematic. Plus, _you_ could have--”

“You don’t _get it,”_ Anakin said. “You did _exactly_ what I said not to do--”

“Technically--”

“You _know_ what I meant!”

“Yeah, but--”

_“Caleb.”_

A moment of silence.

Anakin stopped himself for a moment, took a deep breath. _Don’t snap at him. Don’t get_ mad, _just…_

“Do you get that this is why I think I need to leave you behind?” Anakin asked. “…you can answer me. I won’t cut you off.”

“No,” Caleb said. “I mean, I know I didn’t listen, exactly, and I _know_ it was kind of stupid, and I’m not the greatest pilot and I’m still _learning_ how to use ship guns, but you _couldn’t_ get out without my help, and staying in the system remote wouldn’t _work_ after she hit the alarm and I couldn’t just do _nothing_ and let you…” He trailed off and looked down at his hands. Anakin could feel the echoes of his grief and guilt swirling around them.

Anakin sighed and sank back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, because it was painfully familiar. It _resonated._

_Deep breath. Calm down. Don’t drown in it._

“I would’ve figured something out,” he said. “All right? Because that’s what I _do_ now, and I can’t--I _can’t_ bring you into it.”

_I can’t go through it again. I_ can’t _lose anyone else. After--after Obi-Wan, and Padme, and Ahsoka…she came back to the fight, she came to Mandalore, she met me there, fought with me and...and she probably--I tell myself maybe she didn’t, because Bo-Katan didn’t know and because that keeps me going, but I know it’s probably a lie. I know the reality. And I_ cannot _go through that again. I can’t…I_ can’t _get close to you only to…and even if I don’t, then I’ll put_ you _through that--that loss, that guilt and grief, all over again, which…no. Not a chance._

Caleb took a big, unsteady breath and looked up at him again, face set. “Yeah, well,” he said, “I’m already in it, whether you like it or not. Because…because if you leave me behind a-and keep doing this alone…”

_…it would be the same damn thing._

The realization hit him like--like getting punched in the face.

And...if Anakin were honest with himself, at this point, even if he left Caleb in a position of relative safety and had that to hold on to…he would never be _sure._ Some part of him would always wonder. Always worry.

Could he put either of them through _that?_

The Force hummed around him; it was like a dislocated joint locking back into place.

He sighed again, and some of the tension left the air between them.

Caleb blinked, a little uncertain now.

“…thank you,” Anakin said, because that was probably a good place to start. He made a little half-bow, just like in the old days. “For bailing me out back there.”

The kid just looked _more_ confused, but returned the gesture, falling back on old habits and training ingrained in him from probably before he could even talk in full sentences. “You’re welcome?” he said.

Anakin managed a little bit of a smile.

“Although we _do_ need to work on your piloting skills. You were right about that, too.”

“Yeah,” Caleb said, ducking his head and flushing, before it hit him. “…wait. Wait, does this mean I get to _stay?_ That I’m…that you’re my new Master now?”

Anakin winced a little, because this still felt like _such a bad idea,_ like it would blow up in his face the way everything else had--

\--and yet, it felt like the only right choice to make.

“You can stay,” he said. _“But,”_ he added, holding up a hand, “you really _do_ have to listen to me from now on, okay? If we’re gonna work this out. We can figure out the loopholes later, but at least for a while, you stay in the ship and run support from there. Got it?”

Caleb nodded. “Got it,” he said, and slid into the copilot’s chair, unable to suppress an enormous grin.

Anakin shook his head, but even if part of him still had his doubts, Caleb’s relief and joy, mixed with that sense of _rightness_ in the air, was impossible to ignore.

He couldn’t help but smile back.


	13. Part 2, Chapter 8: Padme

Time had proved, over and over again, that taking the droids with them was probably one of the better decisions Padme and Sabe had made, what felt like a lifetime ago on Alderaan.

Even apart from helping her with Redbird, Artoo was at least as good as a more overt or explicit security system, and a lot easier to fit into their cover story. And Threepio, once Padme gave up and got out of his way, proved to be just as good at keeping track of all those little household details for a pair of fugitives as he had been at managing all of her official engagements as a Senator.

On top of that, short of bringing another handmaiden or having one or both of their fathers, there wasn’t  _ anyone _ she would’ve trusted more with the twins, when she and Sabe were out of the house at the same time. True, that had been  _ hard _ the first few times, but...well, like she’d told herself when she started working at the Blackbird,  _ every _ parent had to fight that mental battle. And she was so,  _ so _ lucky that she had dependable babysitters already living in her house.

To be fair, Threepio  _ did _ get a little anxious every time one of the babies did something new, but Padme would be lying if a part of  _ her _ didn’t do the same thing.

For instance, Leia had recently started trying to pull herself up to stand, and it was all Padme could do not to surround her with about a million pillows for when she fell over. Luke, at least, seemed content to stick with crawling for a little while longer. But, either way, they were both moving around enough that close supervision was important, and having the droids around made that so much easier. Ideally, said supervision had hands to gently corral them, so Artoo didn’t spend much time alone with the twins--but when they were a little older, he would probably do fine.

Today, Sabe was busy at the Blackbird--maintaining their business, of course, and eavesdropping on gossip from both locals and soldiers was doubly important at the moment, now that the local base was officially complete and fully staffed. The more they knew, the better their chances of protecting themselves from any threats from that quarter. Threepio was off running other errands, as well, which left her and Artoo to watch the kids. She’d set up their playpen next to her desk so she could keep an eye on them as she worked on her next Redbird message, while Artoo entertained the babies by dangling a shiny toy for them to bat at.

The last time Padme had looked up, Leia had been much more interested than her brother, who was busy trying to find holes in the mesh playpen big enough to stick his fingers through.

She was deep in rephrasing a propaganda counterpoint--it wouldn’t serve her current purpose if she loaded her Redbird speeches with too much high-level political theory, and she’d gotten a bit, uh, carried away in her first draft--when Artoo let out a startled beep, drawing her attention to--

_ Oh. _

Luke had gotten the toy away from Artoo--and promptly stuck it in his mouth, which was fine, it was designed with that in mind--despite being a solid  _ meter _ away from the droid. Leia, on the other hand, seemed just as surprised as Padme was, looking from her brother to her mother uncertainly.

Padme got up and reached down to scoop Luke up and hold him close--and Leia, of course; which momentarily distracted her from her immediate reaction to what had just happened, all focus on juggling two babies who were a  _ little _ too big for her to comfortably hold at the same time and hope they couldn’t feel her heart racing and get upset.

It wasn’t that Padme hadn’t been expecting it. Whichever of her boys was the twins’ father, the chances were high that her children had inherited his gifts. It was one of the things they’d talked about, that first (last) perfect night, before Anakin’s nightmares had started, when she’d told them about her pregnancy. When, with Count Dooku dead in the still-smoldering wreckage of the  _ Invisible Hand, _ kilometers away, for the first time in a long time, the future had felt real and optimistic and  _ possible _ enough to start making tentative plans.

It had been all she could do to not blurt it out to Anakin when he’d joined her at the Senate entrance--and, frankly, as far along as she had been at the time, she was a  _ little _ surprised he hadn’t noticed on his own--but it had been very important to her that the two of them found out  _ together. _

Fortunately, she hadn’t had to evade Anakin’s questions for very long; Obi-Wan had joined them at her apartment only an hour later, after delivering a preliminary report to the Council. He’d arrived at almost the same time they did; traffic from the Temple must have been more cooperative than traffic from the Senate.

“I’m so glad you made it,” she’d said, stepping away from Anakin just long enough to pull Obi-Wan in for a hug and a quick kiss. Unlike their partner, he didn’t pick her up and spin her around, but he’d always been less physically demonstrative, less  _ tactile _ than either of the two of them. Which didn’t mean he objected to cuddling and so on, or disliked it, just that he was less likely to initiate.

“I’m glad I was able to get away so quickly,” he’d said, after kissing her back, then turning to give Anakin a similar greeting before looking back at her. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” she’d said, and smiled, hoping her nervousness didn’t show too much. Because, yes, everything  _ had _ been all right, as far as she’d known--but it was...a lot later than she’d planned on having this conversation, because it  _ had _ to be in person and they’d both been away for so long. And it meant an  _ enormous _ change in their lives.

But she  _ was _ happy, and, as complicated it was, she’d had total faith that her boys would be, as well.

“I have something to tell you,” she’d said, taking their hands and pulling them over to the couch. “Something wonderful has happened.” She took a breath, squeezed their hands, and then said, “I’m pregnant.”

There was a moment of stunned silence; Padme may not have been a Jedi, but she didn’t need the Force to guess that the same things had been flying through her lovers’ minds that  _ she’d _ thought of, after her third positive pregnancy test. The joy, the  _ terror, _ the enormity of both…

“That’s…” Anakin had finally said. “You’re…”

Obi-Wan, in a rare gesture, had simply leaned over and held the two of them close. “We will figure everything out,” he’d promised.

“Of course we will,” Anakin had agreed. “But for now...let’s just...let’s not worry about anything right now, okay? This is a happy moment. The happiest moment of my life.”

She and Obi-Wan had exchanged a look past him, but...for all the practical questions they  _ did _ need to answer, this was also something they should celebrate. One night wouldn’t make too much of a difference.

So, Obi-Wan had found a bottle of sparkling shuura juice she’d hidden in her kitchen for just this moment, and they’d spent the next hour making simple plans, answering the simple questions. The nursery she wanted to set up at Varykino, possible names…

“I don’t know which of you is the father,” she’d admitted. “I didn’t think it mattered, but…”

“It doesn’t,” Anakin had said, firmly. “Biology isn’t everything, and either way, this baby is  _ ours.” _

Obi-Wan had nodded his agreement. “Precise details beyond that are irrelevant.”

“Oh, good,” she’d said, then hesitated, before setting her glass down. “I...I know that probably means decisions that most parents don’t have to make…”

“Nothing we need to think about just yet,” Obi-Wan had said. “I’ll admit, it’s been a while since I’ve worked with any of the creche masters, but I do know that’s a decision we can put off for a while yet. I  _ believe _ six months to a year is typical for Human children, but I’ll make some discreet inquiries to confirm.”

“All right,” Padme had said, then turned the subject back to names, grateful to let that particular question rest for a while.

And now...

Six months to a year, when the twins would start to hit  _ those _ milestones, the ones she couldn’t research and prepare for on her own. And the twins  _ were _ nine months now, right in the middle of that window.

And then there had been what Master Yoda had said, on the  _ Tantive, _ before they had gone into their separate exiles.

_ “When ready they are, find me. Know the way, they will.” _

Not that they were anywhere  _ near _ that point, because  _ whatever _ tradition dictated, she was  _ not _ sending her infant children halfway across the galaxy; that could wait until they were old enough to make their  _ own _ decisions on the subject.

In any case, she’d  _ known _ this was coming. Even if she and Sabe hadn’t talked through any concrete plans, they’d  _ both _ known.

And at least this was happening  _ now, _ with only her and Artoo to witness. Early enough that there was no chance anyone else could see.

But it was one thing to know, in the abstract, and another to watch her son gumming a toy he had--that he had summoned with the Force. And even more than worry over what might happen if they were  _ caught-- _

\--she was doing so much  _ better _ lately. Between raising her children, and helping Sabe with the Blackbird, and her own work as Redbird, she was busy enough that there were hours, even  _ days _ sometimes, when she barely thought about her lovers and the friends and the  _ world _ she had lost. But this-- _ this _ moment had caught her off guard; and it hit her almost as hard as that awful moment when she’d realized...realized that her boys weren’t coming home, that she would have to raise her children by herself, that that night the three of them had agreed that, regardless of the Council’s orders, Anakin should go with Obi-Wan to Utapau, was the  _ last time _ she would ever see them.

She closed her eyes, not bothering to try and stop crying, exactly; just...trying not to cling too tightly to the twins and gradually pulling herself together.

After a moment, she registered Artoo leaning against her, crooning sadly. While she’d gotten better at binary over the last few months, a few things still got lost in translation.

Not this, though.

“...you miss them, too, don’t you,” she said.

He beeped once, probably in agreement.

She took a deep, shaky breath; her hands were too full with her children for her to wipe her eyes, but it didn’t really matter. “We’ll figure it out,” she said, leaning her now-aching head against his dome. “Somehow.”


	14. Part 3: 17 - 16 BBY, Chapter 1: Obi-Wan

“You know,” Ahsoka said, taking a long sip of her drink through a straw, “if I’d known how much time you and I were gonna spend hanging out in dives like this one…”

“You wouldn’t have chosen to stay?” Obi-Wan asked. This one, at least, was three or four cuts above the one where they’d first reconnected two years before. Not enough to try the food, but enough that the beverages and the dishware were reasonably dependable.

“Oh, I didn’t say  _ that,” _ she said. “Just...I don’t think I would’ve believed it.”

“Strange times, my friend,” he said.

“True,” she agreed. Her eyes flickered around the bar. “You sure we can trust this lead?”

“As much as any we’ve gotten, I think,” he said, with a shrug. “But we need the supplies, and after that incident in V’Reeye last year…”

“I know,” she said.

_ That  _ had been an unmitigated disaster, one he wished he could forget. A simple resupply mission, or that had been the plan; they’d scouted out the underground market for days before moving in to buy the contraband they needed. Charge packs for blasters, painkillers and other controlled medical supplies...basics, for their current mission, but dangerous and difficult to acquire.

They’d completed half the errands on their list when the troopers had closed in.

“Sorry,” the ammunition dealer had muttered to him, before ducking behind his cart and out of the line of fire.

It had been brutal and bloody; about half of the troopers had been dead or wounded by the time it was over, and Obi-Wan was fairly certain a civilian or two had gotten caught in the crossfire; Ahsoka had emerged with a concussion and a broken wrist and Obi-Wan himself had been shot through the shoulder; but they’d made it back to their ship alive, and healed, in time. Even short on some of the supplies that would have helped.

Since then, they’d been wary of buying things in such open places. Not that a cantina couldn’t host an ambush just as easily as a set of illicit market stalls, but…

An enclosed space meant fewer variables. And working with one dealer at a time may have been slower, but it also kept their chances of being betrayed to a much more manageable level.

This, however, would  _ not _ be like V’Reeye. For all he and Ahsoka were meeting with an unverified arms dealer in a wretched cantina in the middle of nowhere, Obi-Wan had a surprisingly good feeling about the whole thing.

Ahsoka took another slurping sip, then paused.

“...what is it?” Obi-Wan asked.

“We...may have a problem,” she said. Her eyes flicked, just for a moment, to something behind and to his left. “How do we recognize our contact again?”

“Blue flower pinned to his hat,” Obi-Wan said. “You know that, you’re the one who confirmed all the details.”

“Yeah, I know. But I just saw someone with a blue flower in his hat,” she said. “And I could have  _ sworn _ it was--”

“Well, well, well!” a familiar voice said from behind him. “Such a pleasant surprise, to run into such very old and dear friends of mine in a place like this!”

“--Hondo,” Ahsoka finished, as the Weequay pirate slid into the booth beside Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan recovered quickly enough. “Captain,” he said, shifting to give Hondo a little more room--he was only inches away from sitting in Obi-Wan’s lap; and while Ahsoka had their funds for the transaction at hand and Obi-Wan didn’t have anything particularly valuable in his pockets on that side… “This is a surprise.”

“Yes, yes,” Hondo said, setting his own drink on the table and flashing a grin in Obi-Wan’s direction. “To me as well, my old friend. There are such terrible, terrible rumors flying around. But! I am glad to see that they are  _ not _ so true as I had feared.”

And, for all Hondo was and always had been a rather slippery character, the simple truth of that rang in the Force.

Obi-Wan met Ahsoka’s eyes across the table; she shrugged once--Hondo had been their friend at least as often as their adversary, back during the War. Assuming they could meet his price--including whatever additional charges he decided to add on to their prior agreement--there was no reason to think that would change now.

Except that the profit for turning on them was that much greater.

Except the chance that the Empire would pay him in blaster bolts rather than credits was  _ also _ greater.

He nodded at Ahsoka; he was willing to take the risk that Hondo had weighed those odds and come up in their favor if she was.

“So are we,” Ahsoka said, relaxing slightly and taking another sip of her drink. “Although, I gotta say, I wasn’t expecting you to turn up as an arms dealer.”

“Ah, a profitable enough side business, when one can find the correct buyers,” Hondo said airily. “Sadly, a difficult thing in these trying times.”

“I would imagine so,” Obi-Wan said. “Your supply lines are secure as well?”

“My friend, my friend, you wound me!” he said. “I do not offer valuable merchandise, not to discerning customers such as yourselves, if I do not already have it in my possession!”

“And you made sure it’s untraceable?” Ahsoka asked, pointedly.

“The very first thing,” Hondo assured her. “Imagine the trouble if  _ Hondo _ got caught with such things! I do not always find my buyers as quickly as I found you, my friends.”

A reasonable point, and Ahsoka nodded, satisfied.

“We would, of course, like to take a look for ourselves before we hand over the credits,” Obi-Wan said. “You understand. It’s not that we don’t trust you, but…”

“No, no, you are clever, clever beings of good sense,” Hondo said, solemnly. “I have the merchandise in a safe, neutral location, as we agreed. Although, to accompany you there--you must understand, the risk to  _ my _ safety in such a venture, a surcharge must be added.”

_ And it begins. _ Obi-Wan sat back, hiding a smile by taking a quick sip of his drink. He did enjoy this part. Particularly with someone he knew, playing for stakes he understood completely.

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “We’ll pay you the price we agreed, Hondo,” she said. “I mean, that kind of surcharge doesn’t apply to old friends, right?”

“Ah, but friends are friends and business is business,” Hondo said. “It is a reasonable amount, I assure you! A mere ten percent of the agreed-upon price.”

“For a guide as opposed to a set of coordinates?” Obi-Wan said, mildly. “I would hardly call that  _ reasonable, _ my friend.”

“We’ll pay you two,” Ahsoka added.

“Seven.”

“Three and a half.”

“Five,” he said. “And in  _ advance.” _

“Deal,” Obi-Wan cut in. “Ahsoka?”

Ahsoka nodded, and pulled out a handful of betting chips from a casino two systems over--the currency they’d agreed on in their discussions before setting the final meet for the exchange. They’d brought extra, of course; even before knowing Hondo was involved, it was best to be prepared for additional fees in this sort of transaction.

“Marvelous,” Hondo said, the chips disappearing into one of his many pockets faster than Obi-Wan could track. “...you know, my friends, if everything in my crate is as you expect, if we can finalize our prior agreement and all  _ remain  _ friends…”

“Yes?” Obi-Wan prompted.

“I have a proposition for you,” he said, leaning forward just a little. “A simple job, but a great deal of profit for us all, I think.”

Obi-Wan and Ahsoka exchanged another long look.

“...what kind of job?” Ahsoka asked.

“We’re not going to commit to anything unless we know what’s on offer,” Obi-Wan added.

“Of course, of course,” Hondo said. “I have credible sources,  _ very _ credible, pointing me towards a supply of medical-grade spice. Intended for the black market, of course, but poorly guarded--the thieves are new to this sort of thing, trying to break into the business, I expect, and will only get themselves killed by Black Sun or the Pykes or Crimson Dawn...perhaps even the Empire. It would be a service to these poor beings, I think, if we were to take it off their hands. No?”

“We’re not drug dealers, Hondo,” Ahsoka said.

“No, no, of course not,” he said. “But I am sure, in your travels, you have come across beings who could have  _ legitimate _ uses for such a thing, but cannot afford either above-board  _ or _ black market prices? To say nothing of what even  _ one  _ vial would do in your own medical stores.” He grinned. “Which I am sure you keep well-stocked of late, yes?”

He wasn’t...entirely wrong.

While spice was more known for its recreational uses and addictive qualities, it  _ also _ was one of the more effective painkillers on the market. To say nothing of its use against certain infections, parasites, and toxins, some of which were bacta-resistant.

Obi-Wan caught Ahsoka’s eye again, and while he couldn’t  _ precisely _ read her thoughts--the Force didn’t work like that--he still knew what she was thinking.

They had passed through a mining settlement only two weeks before--their primary mission had been to gain access to data from the Imperial military observation station in orbit, but it was far easier to infiltrate the associated ground-based storage facility than the station itself. He and Ahsoka had planted their bugs with no trouble; in point of fact, it had been one of their most successful missions since they’d reconnected; but the settlement itself was…

It had been something that stuck with him. Ahsoka, too, he imagined, though they hadn’t discussed it. A place of truly  _ desperate  _ poverty, as the deposits of raw materials they mined for the wider galaxy were nearly exhausted; a few locals had low-level maintenance or janitorial positions at the data facility, but unemployment was widespread, and only growing. And the runoff from the mine had severely impacted the town’s water supply and, with it, the health of the citizens.

In ways that medical-grade spice could  _ certainly _ help, if only the town, or the well-intentioned but overworked and increasingly-desperate doctor at its single clinic, could  _ afford _ such a thing.

Even if they kept back one or two vials for themselves, even if Hondo’s planned split of whatever they managed to take was egregiously unfair…

Their sometime-ally probably wouldn’t be offering any of this if there weren’t  _ some _ value in it for all parties involved. Enough to help that town, if they pulled it off.

Obi-Wan nodded once, and Ahsoka took a breath.

“Let’s see about our other deal first,” she said. “But if that all works out…”

“We’d be very interested in more details on the spice you found,” Obi-Wan finished for her.

“Excellent,” Hondo said. “I knew my very good friends would not let me down.” He stood up. “Come, follow me. We have a great deal of business to complete, yes?”

“It would appear so,” Obi-Wan said, finishing his drink in a single swallow and rising as well. “After you, old friend.”

Hondo grinned, turned with a flourish, and started for the door.

“Are you sure about this?” Ahsoka asked, in an undertone.

“No,” he admitted, as he followed the pirate. “But if the offer is genuine...it would be nice, wouldn’t it, to do something tangible to  _ help _ people, rather than staying constantly on the offensive, would it not?”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “...yeah, it really would.”

“So we’ll see where this goes,” he said. “I don’t think Hondo will sell us out, if that’s what you’re worried about. Shortchange us, absolutely, but…”

“Yeah,” she said again, flashing him a quick, pointy grin. “Here we go, then.”

“Here we go indeed,” he said, then quickened his pace to catch up with their guide.

_ And if this all  _ does _ work out, _ he thought.  _ We may have more allies than we think out there. _

A comforting thought.

_ If _ the rest of this mission went to plan.

And with Hondo involved...well. ‘If’ was a world that contained an entire galaxy.


	15. Part 3, Chapter 2: Anakin

Working with Caleb over the past couple of years had changed a lot about the way Anakin handled his mission.

Some of the changes, he’d expected. For one thing, while  _ he  _ could handle flinging himself from one target to the next, only stopping if, as after the crash on Kaller, he physically  _ couldn’t _ continue without taking time to heal, Caleb didn’t have the stamina for that.

Some of the changes, he probably  _ should _ have expected--having a second person involved had pushed Anakin to put a lot more effort into actually  _ planning _ his missions than he had when he was on his own. Even if he mostly kept Caleb in the background, on hand for support or an emergency extraction, rather than an active combat role.

He  _ did _ still rely on improvisation a good chunk of the time, because he’d always done his best work that way anyway. Just not as much as he had on his own, or with Ahsoka, who either thought that way herself or was better at adjusting to his style than Caleb was, or some combination of the two.

The point was, he was taking more time to consider his actions, and thinking things through more, which was probably overall a good thing, but it had its downsides, too.

More time to think meant more time to...remember. To grieve, to twist himself up inside with guilt over all the things he had  _ almost _ done.

It didn’t help that Caleb had nightmares sometimes, too. Not like the ones Anakin had had, before his mother’s death or those last few nights on Coruscant, thank the Force. Just…regular nightmares. About what had happened to his first Master, mostly, with the details ranging from painfully accurate to horrifying extrapolations.

Not that the baseline wasn’t horrible  _ enough, _ but…Human imaginations were creative, and these things--nightmares--tended to build and grow. Turn into feedback loops that were hard to break.

Including, now that the two of them had built up a functioning training bond, their separate nightmares occasionally feeding off of  _ each other, _ though fortunately that had only happened once. It was under control now. Or at least Anakin  _ hoped _ it was. The one time it had happened, it had taken him by surprise, and it was…ugly.

It had been maybe a month after he had officially taken Caleb on, and by the time he’d realized that the lines between them were getting a little blurry; that his guilt and grief were bleeding over into Caleb’s or vice-versa…

_ He’d _ managed to wake himself up at that point, but it had taken him a  _ terrifying  _ thirty minutes to coax Caleb out of the nightmare. Still, as awful as it had been, Anakin was relieved that  _ he’d _ been the one to pull out first. If Caleb had had to wake  _ him, _ he was half-afraid he would’ve just  _ reacted, _ lashed out before he realized what was going on, and actually  _ hurt _ him.

But he hadn’t, and he just held on to that relief to sustain him, rather than wallowing in the guilt of what- _ almost _ -was.

He’d  _ needed _ to do that, otherwise he never would’ve actually solved the problem.

He’d started by pouring all his energy into  _ much _ tighter shields, to the point where he could barely even sense Caleb’s presence when he was in the same room, coupled with pushing himself to a level of physical exhaustion where he  _ couldn’t _ dream. But it wasn’t sustainable, and he’d known that from the start.

What it  _ had _ done was bought them a little time, some breathing room to calm down until they were at a point where they could start working on a  _ permanent _ fix. And it was working; or at least they’d been spared any repeats.

Not that the nightmares had stopped, or the guilt and grief and fear had ever  _ completely _ gone away for either of them. But, step by step, they’d managed to work through things, both in the privacy of their own heads and going back to basic exercises and even just…talking, sometimes, to a point where it was  _ manageable. _ And Anakin, at least, had a better grasp of recognizing when things were getting bad and not getting trapped, the way he used to.

And, yeah, sometimes he did fall back on his unsustainable temporary fixes, just to get past the worst of it and cut through the noise, but he tried not to. If only to set a better example for Caleb.

Which went back to--the kid had been right, back at the beginning. Anakin had learned a lot from him, in different ways than he had from Ahsoka. Because he and Caleb? All they had was each other. Ahsoka had had other models she could turn to. Obi-Wan, to start, sometimes other Masters who worked with them for a mission or two, and…and Rex, too. Some of the other officers.

But with Caleb, Anakin didn’t have anyone he could turn to, to help fill in those gaps.

And he’d noticed, after having to get past  _ that _ problem, that it had spread into other areas of his mind he hadn’t wanted to look at, either. Like a weirdly helpful virus; forcing himself not to wallow in what he could have done  _ here, _ if he hadn’t caught on in time, had given him…a little more perspective on everything  _ else _ he had almost broken.

Not that he’d forgiven himself, exactly, or that it had completely stopped, but…

That little voice in the back of his mind wasn’t as loud or as constant anymore. And it, maybe, hurt a little bit less than it used to, when those echoes started up.

_ come home, come home, come home. _

So, overall--a lot of things had changed since Caleb had joined him, but Anakin was absolutely sure that those changes were a net positive. Things were better.  _ He _ was better, by far, than he had been when he was on his own. And Caleb was, too, which was even more important.

Even if he’d had to break his rules to get there.

* * *

Of course, as with all things, better didn’t mean wasn’t still work left to do; as the faint and familiar threads of  _ conflict _ spilling out from Caleb, who was up over an hour earlier than usual this morning, showed.

They were at the tail end of a break between missions; Anakin had intended to take three days, maybe a week, for the two of them to meditate and do some ‘saber and other basic training, but then he’d gotten mildly shot on exfil from his last mission, and Caleb had  _ insisted _ on taking at least two.

His new apprentice, Anakin had learned very quickly, was just about as stubborn as he was, and this was a battle Anakin had decided not to fight.

Anakin joined him on the ledge outside the ship. He didn’t say anything right away; he could sense that Caleb’s focus was  _ just _ coming together, and this would be the worst time to offer anything but tacit support.

It didn’t take long for Caleb to open his eyes with a sigh, having more or less righted himself. Or gotten past the immediate tangle, at least.

“Want to talk about it?” Anakin asked.

He shook his head. “Just…the usual. It’ll pass.”

The usual, of course, meant memories, rather than anything even  _ approaching _ a premonition, and Anakin couldn’t help but let out a faint breath of relief.

Not that Caleb had ever had  _ anything _ like  _ those _ dreams, in the time Anakin had known him, but…well, that kind of dream was rare for him, too.

“All right,” he said. “Do you want more time, or would it be better to move on?” They  _ had _ been planning to at least start working through a list of possible targets today, and Anakin was getting restless, but if Caleb was about to start another string of bad nights, it might be better to hold off a while longer.

“Move on,” Caleb said, decisively, and Anakin was, sneakily, a little bit relieved again.

Because, yeah, hiding in missions and adrenaline was a temporary fix at best, but he, at least, did a  _ lot _ better when he had a physical task to work on alongside a mental one. Even now, when he was putting more effort into doing things the right way than he ever had before.

Caleb wasn’t like him in that way--not like Ahsoka had been--but a change of pace was still sometimes exactly what he needed.

And he was a  _ lot _ better than Anakin had  _ ever _ been at recognizing when he did.

“All right, then,” Anakin said.

“I actually had an idea for that,” he said.

“Oh?”

“There’s this person,” Caleb said. “She calls herself Redbird, and she talks about things.”

“Over the net?” Anakin asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Mostly, what she does is challenge the official story the Empire puts out about things, and...just sort of tries to remind people why we should fight against them.”

“Huh,” Anakin said. All logic said that something like this Redbird person was  _ probably _ a trap, but all he could think was that, if Padme hadn’t--if his visions hadn’t come true in the end, this was probably  _ exactly _ what she’d be doing. If she hadn’t stayed on Coruscant to try to force change from the inside, because she was about as good as  _ he _ was at knowing when to back down from a fight.

“Master?”

“...sorry,” he said. “Redbird, countering propaganda on the net. You think there’s something in one of her messages we can act on?”

He nodded. “I was listening, after I woke up. Couldn’t get back to sleep, thought distraction might help first.”

“Right.”

“And she mentioned a factory, getting built on the...hang on, I wrote it down.”

“You took notes?” Anakin said.

“Yeah,” Caleb said. “...I should’ve just recorded her instead, shouldn’t I.”

“Probably,” Anakin said. “Just remember for next time, okay?”

“Yeah,” Caleb said. “Anyway, this factory, she said that the official story was that the work there is just upgrades for an existing fuel refinery. But she got the name of one of the scientists who’s been conscripted for the project, and she’s pretty sure that even if they  _ are _ doing some general upgrades, they’re also building a chemical weapons factory. I thought we should at least check it out. Right? Not like that other place, last year.”

“I agree,” Anakin said.

Last year had been...complicated. They’d had a fairly solid lead on a bioweapon research lab with a cover as a legitimate medical research facility. And bioweapons were a  _ problem. _ Dealing with the Blue Shadow Virus lab  _ still  _ ranked as one of the most horrifyingly  _ creepy _ missions he’d ever gone on in his entire  _ life, _ for both wide-range and personal reasons, since Padme  _ and _ Ahsoka  _ and _ Rex had  _ all _ nearly died on a single day.

But he and Caleb hadn’t had the resources or the experience to investigate the facility properly, and figure out how to destroy the weapons side  _ without _ destroying the viable research. Which could be important. Which could, maybe, save as many lives as the weapons side might end.

And  _ maybe _ the whole thing had been a lie, but Anakin knew that the best lies, the most  _ convincing _ lies, had a grain of truth to them. He’d known that since he was a kid, learning how to keep himself safe and keep secrets like his podracer from Watto and other people he couldn’t afford to find out.

He may not have been very  _ politically _ savvy, despite Padme and Obi-Wan’s very patient efforts to explain things to him, but he knew that much. And that veneer of legitimacy that the Chancellor was still smearing over all the ugly things he was doing, that was for a reason. Anakin wasn’t totally sure what that reason  _ was, _ but he hadn’t wanted to take the chance, not when it was so likely there was  _ some _ level of truth to the cover story.

But a  _ chemical _ weapons plant--even with a refinery as a cover, that was a safer target. Refineries were more common and a  _ lot _ less specialized than medical research. And even if Redbird was wrong and the cover story was all there was to it, destroying a refinery would disrupt Imperial supply lines in that sector, at least temporarily. Still a mission worth doing.

And there was another thing.

Anakin had been working with Caleb for a couple years now, and he wasn’t the  _ only _ one who’d been changed by it. In that time, Caleb had matured. Steadied out, a lot. His skill had certainly grown; in some ways, like with figuring out when to meditate and when to distract himself, he was  _ better _ than Anakin at some of the basics.

Unless something  _ very _ weird turned up in their recon, this would be a good mission to start involving him more directly. In active combat. Not just support and backup.

Not that he would mention that until he knew for sure--better not to get the kid all wound up over something that might not happen--but it was something he’d keep in mind.

“All right,” he said. “Go get your datapad, let’s go over your notes and see if we can come up with a plan.”


	16. Part 3, Chapter 3: Padme

The Blackbird was still mostly Sabe’s project, but Padme had kept up her part-time position, working at the cantina for a few hours in the afternoon. It was only occasionally busy then, but between that and the twins and Redbird, it was enough to keep her feeling reasonably settled and productive.

And Sabe had been _absolutely right,_ about how much having _some_ kind of adult interaction aside from her handmaiden had helped with her overall mental state. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Sabe, and the twins--more than life itself--but she needed more people to talk to than that. Especially since the twins were two now, and were learning how to get into trouble with an innate skill they had inherited from...well, if Padme were totally honest, probably all _three_ of their parents.

Of course, not all of her conversations at the Blackbird were enlightening or fulfilling, but it got her out of the house for a few hours each day, which was the main goal. And as much as working at the cantina could be either boring (if it was slow) or stressful in its own way (if it was busy), a break from solving the problems experienced _and caused_ by her toddlers to handle drunks instead was almost refreshing.

This afternoon had started out as one of the slow ones.

Until about halfway through her shift, when there was a faint rumble in the distance, and the glass Padme was filling shook just enough that the liquor spilled all over her hand and the bar.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she was careful not to let it show as she set the bottle aside and put on an apologetic smile for her regular. She hadn’t spilled on _him,_ at least.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, around the heart lodged in her throat, pulling out a cloth to wipe up the spill.

He grunted. “Better not charge me for that.”

“Of course not,” she assured him.

Fortunately, her mild irritation with _him_ cut through most of the rest of the adrenaline rush, that initial reaction to the...Incident. Whatever it was.

Then again, his reaction wasn’t exactly a surprise--this particular regular was a cranky old retired farmer who found fault with just about everything. Which, of course, didn’t stop him from coming in every day, to sit in this corner and drink until the evening rush came in, then grump off to wherever he came from. He was never disruptive or destructive, at least, but he was _always_ rude to her and Sabe and anyone else who tried to engage him.

 _Not_ her favorite customer.

Still, she refilled his drink without complaining (or spilling again). She debated giving him a little extra as an apology, but it hadn’t been her fault and the “kill him with kindness” approach had never worked with this guy before.

“Anything else I can get you?”

He waved her off, and she made a quick scan of the rest of the bar--just the two of them, at the moment.

“All right. If you change your mind, just shout,” she said. “I need to make sure nothing in the back was damaged by that--whatever that was.”

He didn’t bother to respond.

For the most part, politics and customer service required substantially different skillsets, but the ability to maintain control over her expression and not outright roll her eyes at people when they were being idiots or aggravating or some combination of the two was useful in both worlds.

She took a few seconds to make sure the register and everything else behind the bar was secure, grabbed the buzzer for the door in case any new customers came in, then headed to the back, pulling her comm from her pocket as she went.

Threepio, thank every known deity in the universe, answered right away. “Mistress Rida! Oh, thank goodness! Are you all right? Such a strange thing, Artoo and I were both certain that this region was not prone to seismic activity like that--”

 _It’s not, but that wasn’t an earthquake._ For all she’d been vague with her customer, she _knew_ what that was; she just wasn’t stupid enough to risk letting _him_ know she knew.

“I’m fine, Threepio,” was all she said out loud. And, based on her quick visual inspection, it didn’t look like there was any serious damage back here. A few broken glasses, maybe, but that was it. “What about at home? Are you and the twins okay?”

“The children are fine,” he said. “I am with them as we speak.”

“Oh, good,” she said. “Did they sleep through it, or can I talk to them for a minute?” It was right around naptime for them, and waking them up was usually about as good an idea as it was with _any_ toddlers, but…

There hadn’t been very many other moments, like the one with Luke’s toy a year and a half ago, but she kept an eye out. And even if the rumbling itself hadn’t woken them, there was always a chance that they’d--that they’d _sensed_ something going on.

“They appear to still be asleep,” Threepio said. “I can wake them, if you like?”

“No, let them sleep,” she said. “I’ll see them when I get home. You’re _sure_ they’re okay?”

“Yes, Mistress Rida, they’re perfectly fine,” he assured her. “And I believe Mistress Cera is--oh!”

“Rida?” Sabe cut in, having apparently taken the comm from Threepio.

“I’m fine,” Padme said. “So is the Blackbird, as far as I can tell. But we’re...we weren’t very close to...whatever happened. I don’t think.”

“No,” Sabe said, a definite note of relief in her voice. “The same here, as Threepio said.”

“Good,” Padme said, with feeling. She leaned against the wall a little, not quite shaking, but the support helped.

“Do you want me to come take over?” Sabe asked.

Padme thought about it, seriously, for a moment. She _did_ want that; more than anything, all she wanted to do right now was go home and hold her children and not think about explosions in the distance and everything that might follow.

On the other hand...the moment of adrenaline had at least mostly passed, and Sabe deserved her fair share of downtime, too.

“No, I’ll be all right,” she said. “Just...wanted to check in.”

“And I’m glad you did,” she said. “All right, if you’re sure, I’ll just come in at the--”

She was interrupted by a harsh _beep._ Padme had only heard it once before, but she recognized it as the local government’s emergency override, which had been used to alert the town to stay indoors when a massive ice storm had rolled in a few months before.

“Attention, citizens of Amyr. Please be aware that the disturbance of seven minutes ago was caused by what appears to be a faulty power cell, and the immediate threat to the town and garrison has been contained. The investigation is ongoing and further updates will follow. The garrison’s ability to ensure your security remains uncompromised, and there is no present threat to the upstanding citizens of our town. However, citizens are urged to report any suspicious persons or activity to the nearest trooper or officer of the town watch, and provide any aid or information requested in the course of the investigation. Thank you. To replay this message, press one now.”

After the message ended, Padme was silent for a long moment, letting the message sink in and thinking it through; Sabe was quiet, too; presumably doing the same thing.

 _Someone bombed the garrison,_ Padme thought. It wasn’t very hard to read between the lines of that too-quick half-reassurance and figure that much out. _Or sabotaged something, anyway. Which means...which means, with or without us, an active resistance is in play. Even if it’s just one angry being, lashing out…_

That was more likely, actually; she hadn’t seen any signs of a conspiracy; Sabe hadn’t shared anything _she’d_ seen, which meant she hadn’t caught on to anything on this scale, either.

 _Is there anything we can do to help, without putting ourselves or the children at risk?_ was her next thought. _Chances are, even if we’re not supposed to recruit yet, this is a potential ally for the open war that’s coming._

But then she winced internally, remembering certain investigations she’d been party to as a Senator, into acts of terrorism on _all_ sides of the War. It would be easy, _so_ easy, to fall into that kind of trap, to go too far too fast and lose sight of what they were fighting _for._ Which was part of why she and Sabe had the mission they did; part of why Bail and other friends of theirs were playing a long game in the Senate, rather than hitting back right away. And there was a chance that whoever was behind this had already come right up to that line, if not _crossed_ it. Nothing indicated that yet, as far as she knew, but it was something to think about.

Because even if _this_ being and _this_ incident hadn’t gone too far...someone would. Someday. It was only a matter of time.

Her mind was spinning with the possibilities and implications, good and bad.

 _Redbird,_ she decided. _My next message, I’ll talk about cover ups and...all of this. About that fine line._

But she’d left Sabe hanging on the other line, and she dragged her attention back to the conversation at hand.

“...I haven’t seen anything,” she said, suddenly very aware that these comms were _not_ secure, at least on her end. “Nothing to report.”

“Likewise,” Sabe said. “Hopefully, we’ll know more soon.”

“Yes,” she said; but before she could add anything, her buzzer went off--someone at the door. “I have to get back to work. We’ll talk when you get in?”

“Of course,” Sabe said. “Be _careful,_ Rida.”

“I will,” she promised. “You, too.”

“Yes. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

“See you then,” Padme said, then hung up, took a deep breath, made sure her professional face was intact and smiling, and went back out into the bar to see what her new customer might want.


	17. Part 3, Chapter 4: Obi-Wan

The weapons Hondo had provided were, as it turned out, exactly as promised. The price was a little steep, given the number and quality, but only slightly higher than the average black market markup, so far as Obi-Wan could tell.

Reasonable enough, at least for now. If they continued to make this kind of trade, he would see about getting that number to drop in future.

Either way, he and Ahsoka now had roughly a six-month supply of both flak and smoke grenades, flashbangs, power packs for standard and automatic blasters, and a fairly new and high-quality sniper rifle. Not a thing they’d needed  _ yet, _ but Obi-Wan was fairly sure that if such a day ever came, nothing else would do.

In short, Hondo had come through for them, and that was enough to convince them to continue working with him, at least in the short term.

Which had brought them here, to what Obi-Wan could only describe as a semi-fortified villa on one of the more attractive moons in the same system as the cantina where they’d met two days before.

_ Hard to believe two such places could exist so close together. _

Then again, one had only to recall the disparity between the Senate halls and the deep underlevels of Coruscant. Perhaps it wasn’t so surprising after all.

“What do you think?” he asked Ahsoka, passing her his omnioculars. Hondo was on his other side, but seemed uninterested in borrowing them. Most likely, he’d done his own scouting well before inviting them along.

“They’ve got means,” she said. “Or did at one point. Like you said, Hondo, not a lot of muscle on site but I can see a couple different types of automated defenses.”

“Yes, yes,” Hondo said. “Standard on this moon. To deter ordinary burglars, for the most part. But we are not ordinary!”

“Perhaps not,” Obi-Wan said. He took the omnioculars back and took a moment to mark the position of the handful of guards he  _ could  _ see. Most likely, there would be at least another three to five within the house itself, not to mention the mastermind behind this would-be syndicate. Say, ten to twelve total. Possibly up to fifteen. Nothing they couldn’t handle. “What can you tell us about the people who own this place?”

“Old money, very old,” he said. “But not much of it left, alas, due to a combination of poor investments prior to the War and poor impulse control since. The daughter, ah, she has gambling debts that are quite, quite excessive. She had a brilliant idea to steal the spice, sell it to pay her debt. Her people are loyal, yes, so they pulled it off thus far, but moving it...ah,  _ that _ is the difficulty.”

“And you think she’s planning to break into the business long-term?” Ahsoka asked, turning to look at him. “That’s what you said back in the cantina.”

“Possible,” he said. “I would venture,  _ probable, _ if this first attempt is as profitable as she hopes, yes? She has a clever head for business, my friends, better than her father’s--just not for cards. If she could keep herself away from the tables...”

“So, I take it she’s a friend of yours?” Obi-Wan asked, dryly.

“Not as such, no,” he said. “But I  _ have _ played a round or two of sabaac with her, years ago.” He grinned. “I  _ am _ a scoundrel, my friend. You know this. Of  _ course _ I keep track of people with a great deal of money and a fatal weakness. Even if they are clever enough, perhaps, to be a threat. This just makes it more enjoyable to swindle them, yes?”

That made altogether too much sense.

“Let me put it another way,” he said. “How likely is she to recognize you when we go in?”

“...ah,” Hondo said. “That is a risk, my friend, I admit it.”

Obi-Wan looked at Ahsoka, who nodded, with a quick, sad smile.

“Pyraea,” she said.

“I think so,” he agreed. “Something similar, anyway. Hondo, do you know where she’d likely be keeping the spice?”

“The upper floor,” he said.

“All right,” he said, then hauled his weapons bag over, taking out his new sniper rifle and passing it to the pirate. “Cover us from here. If all goes to plan, we’ll be in and out in twenty minutes.”

_ This would be so much easier if we had a fourth on our team, as before, but… _

Pyraea had been towards the end of the War, one of the last missions they’d all gone on together before Ahsoka’s trial. While most of their men kept the droid armies busy, he, Ahsoka, Anakin, and Rex had snuck around to the mansion that General M’tar had appropriated as his command post, to acquire access codes and other confidential data that, according to their prior intel, might be the key to liberating four other planets in the sector.

It had been a successful mission; they’d rejoined their men in high spirits and won a decisive victory that day.

But now Anakin was...was gone; had been for two years. And instead of Rex playing sniper on the ridge, they had Hondo.

On the other hand, while the private security patrolling the villa was probably well-trained, certainly well-armed, and  _ clearly _ expensive, the villa itself was hardly a military installation. He and Ahsoka could manage.

Hondo caught the rifle and frowned at him. “Hm. I am not sure I like this plan, my friend.”

“Have I ever double-crossed you before, Hondo?” Obi-Wan pointed out, then held up a hand. “I’m not talking about times where we were at odds and I deceived you. That, as you might put it, is simply the cost of doing business. But in all the times we worked together.”

“...no,” he admitted, then sighed. “Very well, very well. I must be mad, but I will trust you, Kenobi.  _ This _ time. But remember our deal--we split the spice sixty-forty, and  _ do not _ try to cheat Hondo.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured him. “Ahsoka?”

“Ready,” she said.

And, without waiting for--or needing--any further confirmation, they were off.


	18. Part 3, Chapter 5: Obi-Wan

Obi-Wan and Ahsoka moved swiftly and silently down the hill, two shadows darting among the trees; when they were in striking distance of the house, she broke left, heading for the closest alarm sensor. A single shot from her silenced pistol, and it was dead.

He slipped out of cover himself and, in near-perfect unison, they leapt up to the roof. He rolled to spread the energy of the impact, making only a faint rattle across the tiles as he did; she landed silently, on the balls of her feet, before taking off.

He ghosted across the roof in her wake, letting her listen to her instincts and the Force to guide them to the spice while he watched for the guards or any other threats that might emerge. Whoever was monitoring the security feed would note the downed sensor soon enough; any moment now, he would have to--

_ Ah. _

Behind him, he heard a much heavier landing and a grunt as the first of their adversaries joined them on the roof. Obi-Wan half-turned and fired two silenced shots of his own; the man dropped at once, but then tumbled down the roof and into the bushes below with an audible crash.

“Kriff,” he muttered.

“So much for stealth,” Ahsoka said, as an alarm rang out around them.

“Keep moving,” he said. “We’re close?”

“Yeah.”

Thirty more seconds; four more shots from his pistol; and two faint  _ pops _ from the ridge where Hondo was waiting; they reached the edge of the roof.

Ahsoka came to a halt and crouched down, getting a look. “...problem.”

He joined her, looking across at--

“...ah, yes, I see it.”

This villa had a ship on a landing pad set into the wide balcony below, already primed and ready to take off, being hastily loaded with a crate under the direction of a woman in a delicately embroidered blue gown that couldn’t help but remind him of--

But this lady was much taller, and red-haired; it was only the dress that was similar.

And the mission, perhaps, putting his thoughts so close to his  _ other _ long-lost love, that had caused that--that momentary constriction of his heart.

He glanced over at Ahsoka, who nodded, and they jumped down to the landing pad. She kept her pistol on the lady; he covered the guards.

The lady of the house yelped, but recovered quickly, pulling out a pistol of her own and leveling it at them with a hand that shook only slightly. “Who sent you?” she snapped; a faint Kuati accent shaded her voice. “Black Sun? Crimson Dawn?”

“No one sent us,” he assured her. “We simply became aware of the valuable merchandise you acquired, and thought we might take it off your hands.” He smiled, as warmly as he could. “I apologize for the mess we made on our way in, but--”

She fired once; missing him by a mile. He didn’t even bother trying to duck. “I will not let you  _ rob _ me!”

“Of course, of course,” he said, while Ahsoka shifted beside him. “But I’m sure we can come to some other--”

Two more  _ pops, _ and the guards to either side of her dropped.

Hondo must have gotten impatient.

The lady screamed and dropped flat; the crate was fully loaded on the ship now, and--

“Go!” she yelled. “Get it out of here, don’t let them take it!”

“Ben?” Ahsoka said.

Obi-Wan risked a quick glance around; four more guards here on the platform, likely two on the ship itself, which might or might not include the pilot…

“I’ll give you a boost,” he said.

She nodded and crouched down, making herself as compact as possible before launching herself into the air.

He gave her an added  _ shove _ with the Force; felt her hit the still-half-open ramp of the would-be spice dealer’s getaway vehicle, a split second before renewed gunfire lit the air around him, and his focus was, of necessity, withdrawn.

Ahsoka was on her own, but he was sure she had things well in hand.

The five blasters now aimed only at  _ him, _ plus two more coming up the stairs…

Well. As Anakin might have said, once upon a time,  _ this is where the fun begins. _

* * *

One gunfight, a stolen speeder, and an hour’s drive later, Obi-Wan reached the wide clearing where Ahsoka had set down her hijacked ship after gaining control. The pilot and three additional guards--he’d underestimated, apparently--were stunned and bound together on the ramp, and she was sitting on top of the spice crate next to them, pistol held loosely in her hand.

“What kept you?” she asked.

“Took me a bit to find the garage with the speeders,” he admitted. “And I’m afraid I didn’t think to leave anyone conscious enough to be a guide. Have you made contact with--”

A hum of engines answered that question for him, and Hondo set his ship down on Ahsoka’s other side.

“Well done, my friends!” he said, as he sauntered down the ramp.

Ahsoka grinned, bowed with a flourish even  _ Hondo _ might have envied, then hopped down off the crate. “I haven’t opened it,” she said. “So you can take your share, but remember, we’re watching.”

“Of course, of course,” Hondo said, producing a vibroblade from one of his pockets and using it to pry out the staples holding the top of the crate shut.

Just as promised, inside were at least a hundred vials of spice; the faint  _ ping _ in the Force, along with the color, was enough to tell Obi-Wan the quality was as advertised as well.

Hondo glanced over at him. “I take it, my friend, that you can confirm my source’s information on our merchandise?”

“Yes,” he said. “It’s what we came for.”

“Excellent, excellent.” He turned back to the crate. “Something, young lady, to put your share in, perhaps? As mine is the larger, I think I will be keeping the original crate.”

“Right,” she said, then disappeared briefly back into the ship, before emerging with a couple of soft canvas overnight bags. “Load away, Captain.”

He gave her a brief salute, then went to work.

With two Jedi watching his every move, Hondo kept to their agreed-upon split--or close enough that Obi-Wan didn’t feel it worth challenging him.

“A pleasure doing business with you, old friend,” he said, bowing slightly as Hondo resealed the crate.

“Yes, yes, always!” Hondo said. “And--if you are ever in need of other contraband, or a discreet ride from place to place...come find Hondo.” He grinned. “A day as profitable as this is one that should be followed by many others, yes?”

Obi-Wan laughed. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again,” he agreed. “May the Force be with you.”

“Good luck,” Hondo said, then pushed the crate on its hoversled over to his ship. In moments, he was gone.

He shook his head, and went to pick up one of the bags and load it into the speeder. “Back to our ship then, I think.”

Which was  _ not  _ the one he’d had when he and Ahsoka reconnected; they’d acquired a significantly better replacement a year and a half ago, and somewhere along the line, it had begun to feel like home. He’d prefer not to give it up if he had a choice.

Besides, the would-be spice dealer had almost certainly installed at least one tracking device into her ship. Finding and disabling it--particularly if there were redundancies--would take at least as much time as circling back to where they’d left their own, and run the risk of more unpleasantness if she caught up before they were through.

“Yeah,” Ahsoka said, stashing the second bag next to his. “You know, that went a lot better than I was expecting.”

“Hm, yes,” he said. “One can never tell, with Hondo Ohnaka.”

“Nope,” she agreed. “So, we keep two vials for ourselves, and then take the rest back to that mine?”

“Just what I was thinking.” Obi-Wan moved around to the driver’s side, only for Ahsoka to slide across the speeder and beat him there. “Really?”

“Which of us is the better at evasive driving, Master? Just in case?” she asked, her face very serious but her eyes sparkling with mirth.

He sighed. “If you break any of those vials…”

“You say that like you don’t trust me,” she said.

“I trust  _ you, _ Ahsoka,” he said, climbing into the passenger seat instead. “Your ability to adhere to traffic laws, or perfectly reasonable  _ speed limits, _ on the other hand…”

“In the wilderness, there  _ are _ no traffic laws,” she said, decisively. “ _ Or _ speed limits. But if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll behave if we’re at all likely to be pulled over.”

“So kind,” he said, making sure his seatbelt was  _ securely  _ fastened.

Ahsoka had learned many things from Anakin, when she had been his apprentice. Some of those things were good, some--less than ideal. Obi-Wan still hadn’t decided which category her driving fell into. At least outside of active combat situations.

She smiled brightly, put the car in gear, then hit the accelerator fast enough to slam his back against the seat.

_ Hondo was right, though, _ he thought, as he closed his eyes and let the wind rush over him--for all his teasing, he  _ did _ trust Ahsoka to get them back to their ship in one piece.  _ It  _ was _ a good day. _

Those came more often than he’d expected, when he and Ahsoka had set out on this journey two years ago. But, still, they were precious things.

And, unless any further problems came up on the horizon, Obi-Wan had every intention of simply enjoying what was left of it.


	19. Part 3, Chapter 6: Anakin

They approached the fuel refinery at dusk; it was still belching smoke into the blue-grey sky, but that wasn’t a surprise. This particular refinery was one that had higher quotas to meet than most, so there would be no time when it was completely offline, open for them to attack with no collateral damage to mostly-innocent workers.

But the evening shift change was the least of several bad options.

Anakin and Caleb had spent most of the last three days watching the comings and goings from the refinery. They hadn’t found any evidence of the chemical weapons research Redbird had stumbled across--not yet--but there  _ was _ some indication that the place was being upgraded.

And, like Anakin had already decided, a refinery was still a good target.

The plan was simple enough. Anakin had stolen a jumpsuit that matched the ones worn by the contractors installing the upgraded equipment, and Caleb was going in as a regular worker. He was almost sixteen, and could maybe pass for a year or two older. Based on what they’d seen before, he was just  _ barely _ old enough to be credible as part of the workforce.

Once inside, Caleb would set a handful of strategic charges--not to actually bring the place down, but to set off enough alarms that hopefully they’d be able to evacuate the civilian workforce. He, of course, would hang back to meet Anakin so they could finish the mission.

Meanwhile, Anakin would work his way in with the new equipment, and figure out if they could safely blow the whole thing up, or what contingency plan they should use if the weapons factory side of the complex had anything too dangerous for that--or, if it turned out Redbird’s intel was off, at which point he and Caleb would just do as much damage as they could to the refinery itself.

“You ready?” Anakin asked, as they reached the spot on the crest of the hill where they had to split up.

Caleb nodded, jaw set. “I won’t let you down,” he promised.

“I know,” Anakin said. “Wait until everyone’s settled into their routines before you blow your charges.”

“I know,” Caleb said.

“You remember where we’re meeting if it all goes to hell?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good,” he said, and smiled, sharp and fierce. “See you in an hour, kid.”

“See you then,” Caleb said, trying to match his smile and getting something close to it, and then he disappeared into the refinery side of the complex.

“This is where the fun begins,” Anakin murmured, and slipped off in the opposite direction, towards the research facility, to get into position to strike.

* * *

Anakin had, in all honesty, expected more people to challenge him when he grabbed one of the crated components and filed in with the upgrade team. One or two of the workers gave him an odd look; a middle-aged Rodian woman even caught his eye for a second before looking away; but no one actually  _ questioned _ him. And it seemed that, as far as the troopers keeping watch were concerned, one grunt in a blue jumpsuit was the same as any other.

On the way from the loading dock to the actual workroom, he snuck a peek at the label to see what he was dealing with, and that was all the proof he needed that Redbird’s intel was  _ right _ on the money. He might not know much about chemical engineering, but he  _ did _ know machines, and this one was an acid-proof injector module that had absolutely zero use for anything  _ but _ mixing volatile components.

And, sure, there  _ were _ uses for this kind of injector outside weapons research, but if the Chancellor and his people were going to this much effort to cover up whatever they were doing with it, Anakin would put good money he didn’t even have down on the fact that there was absolutely  _ nothing _ legit going on here at all.

He took a breath to calm himself and kept moving; until he got Caleb’s signal, he had to blend in. Besides, he didn’t have enough intel on exactly  _ what _ was being made here yet--although, if they were still installing basic components like the injector, chances were good that none of the actual chemicals they were working on weren’t yet on site.

The setup of the research facility only confirmed it.

The bulk of the room was taken up by rows of sealed tanks, interspersed with half-completed research terminals and other machinery; some of it he recognized, some of it was unfamiliar, but, well, not his area of expertise; he’d expected that.

Most importantly, though, the tanks themselves were empty. He could sense that. And even if he couldn’t, each of them was fitted with a readout panel.  _ That _ was a component he  _ had  _ seen before; most of the medical bases during the War had had similar ones. Labeling the contents, of course, but also running continuous checks to make sure the labels hadn’t been switched and nothing had been contaminated.

Anyway, all of the panels were inactive. Which meant that he and Caleb were free to do as much damage as they could, without excessive risk to any civilians in range.

On the other hand, the next thing he noticed was the lack of exits. His choices were the main door, where he and the others had come in, and the ventilation system, assuming he could fit. Neither was ideal, especially if they got caught, but he’d run missions on worse odds.

Although not with Caleb. But Ahsoka had managed, younger than he was now, so…

They’d be fine. They’d make it work.

He took another breath to settle himself, checked the label on the injector to confirm where it was supposed to go, and hauled it across the floor to get to work.

He was maybe halfway done when an alarm klaxon ripped through the air.

_ Good job, kid, _ he thought.

“No one move,” one of the guards said. “It’s probably a false alarm. Keep working.”

Anakin rolled his eyes, keeping his head buried in his work so the trooper couldn’t see. It  _ was _ a pretty interesting setup they had here; not the way he would’ve done the preliminary wiring, but whoever had gone through before him hadn’t been an idiot. Far from it. Part of him wished he didn’t have to destroy that work.

But, well, better to not let it get misused.

A second alarm joined the first, and now he pulled his head out.

“Sergeant,” the Rodian woman from before said. “Sergeant, that’s from the refinery. They’ve got a gas leak out there, we need to clear out or we’ll suffocate.”

That...she wasn’t  _ lying, _ exactly; Caleb probably  _ had _ tripped that alarm if he’d figured out a way to do it; but there was something about  _ how _ she was going about this that caught Anakin’s attention.

“...you’re sure about that?” the trooper said.

“I’ve worked in this place half my life,” she said. “I  _ know _ which alarm is which.”

Anakin took a breath, let it out slowly, and gently nudged at the trooper’s mind. Always harder to do this without a verbal command, but…

_ Believe her, _ he urged, putting the Force behind it.  _ She’s the local expert, isn’t she? Why else did they pull her from the refinery onto this crew? _

The man must have been  _ incredibly _ weak-minded; or maybe just already inclined to believe her anyway, but he nodded. “Everyone, stop what you’re doing and move out. Security will clear the place, and we’ll stay late to make up for lost time. Sooner we get out, sooner we get back to work, sooner your shifts will end.  _ Move.” _

The Rodian drifted through the crowd of workers moving quickly, but in an almost disturbingly orderly fashion, to the exit. “I sure as hell hope you know what you’re doing,” she breathed.

He nodded. “Thank you,” he said.

“Good luck, stranger.”

And then she was gone.

Two minutes later, the door slid shut with a solid  _ clank. _

Anakin pulled his blaster out from his boot, then cautiously peeked around the edge of the half-installed injector. He didn’t sense anyone close, but visual confirmation was comforting anyway.

The air vent above him and two meters to his left clicked faintly and he almost pointed his weapon in that direction before he recognized Caleb’s familiar presence.

Instead, he moved to catch the grate, lowering it down to the floor gently so it didn’t crash and attract any unwanted attention.

“Any problems?”

Caleb shook his head. “You?”

“The opposite, actually,” he said. “I’ll fill you in when we’re clear. How long do you think we have?”

“Not long,” he said. “The first charge blew ahead of schedule, so they started clearing other parts of the refinery before my sector was evacuated.”

“We’ll make it work,” Anakin said. “Good news is, nothing dangerous in here yet, just the basic machinery.”

He nodded. “Where do we start?”

“See that big machine on the far wall? Looks kind of like an engine, hooked up to two of the smaller tanks?”

“Yeah.”

“Put a couple charges there, then start on structural supports. This room’s disconnected enough from the rest of the refinery that we shouldn’t set off any chain reactions. I’ll take care of the rest of the machines.”

“Understood, Master,” Caleb said.

The two of them moved quickly; Caleb was focused and determined and if he was nervous, he didn’t let it get in the way.

Even so, they’d only placed about half the charges Anakin wanted when the alarms cut off abruptly.

_...not good. _

Anakin eyed the door, then the vent Caleb had come in through. “Am I going to fit up there?” he asked. Caleb might pass for a young adult in a pinch, but he still had some growing to do. Height, sure, but  _ definitely _ filling out.

“...it’ll be tight, but I think you’ll make it,” he said.

“Good. Head that way, I’ll be right behind you once I finish with the--”

The door slid open before he could finish the thought; revealing their presence to a squad of twelve stormtroopers.

_ Kriff. _

The troopers didn’t waste any time, taking strategic positions around the door and blocking Anakin and Caleb’s likely exit; they were probably already calling for backup.

Caleb dove towards the vent, firing two shots as he went. The first hit--nonfatal, probably not even disabling, but still a hit--and the second went wide.

Anakin followed; half his instincts said to go the opposite direction, try to split the troopers’ focus, but with these numbers it wouldn’t make much difference; and would probably just complicate their escape.

He squeezed off a handful of shots as he went, not expecting any of them to connect; the troopers’ return fire missed him by centimeters; he could smell ozone but no scorched cloth and no pain.

They ended up back where they’d started, two meters away from their exit point, half-sheltered behind the same injector Anakin had been working on less than an hour ago.

“Cover me,” he told Caleb, passing him his gun; the sooner he got the detonator synced up, the sooner they could get out of here.

Caleb nodded, grimly, and ducked around the injector to fire back. “Eight still standing, Master.”

“We’ll be fine,” he said. “Stay focused, try not to think of the worst-case scenario. Duck.”

He dropped; a shot went over his head and into the wall behind them; he popped right back up before the dust even settled to return fire.

“Almost--got it!” Anakin said, then slipped the detonator into his pocket. “Gun.”

He tossed it back.

“You go first,” he said. “I’ll be right behind you, promise.”

Caleb didn’t need to be told twice; he darted out from behind the injector, keeping low until he couldn’t anymore; Anakin felt a faint splash of pain through the Force just before he disappeared into the ceiling and swore internally.

_ Can’t be that bad, _ he told himself.  _ If he were  _ seriously _ hurt, I’d know. _

But only one way to confirm.

He waited another half a breath, then followed his apprentice’s path, shooting blindly at the stormtroopers as he went.

He reached the vent with no issues, braced himself, and  _ jumped; _ hauled himself in and--okay, yeah, it  _ was _ a tight fit, but he made it.

Caleb was already several meters ahead; hadn’t waited for him,  _ good; _ he was making decent time which eased the last of that spike of worry.

It wasn’t the  _ least _ comfortable exit Anakin had ever made--even a cramped ventilation shaft beat getting shot while crawling through a sewer--but he was still  _ very _ relieved to see moonlight at the end of the tunnel six and a half minutes later.

Catching up with Caleb and running across the ground, in contrast, was almost as easy as flying. The kid wasn’t limping, but he did have his right hand curled against his chest, firing back with his left instead.

But he was moving, and he was fighting, and he was--everything was going to be okay.

As soon as they were clear, Anakin signalled Caleb to drop, and then hit the detonator; even if the explosion wasn’t  _ quite _ as dramatic as he’d hoped, it still lit up the sky.

Success.

He could feel Caleb’s relief and that giddy adrenaline that came with  _ accomplishment _ lighting up the Force, almost as bright as the physical explosion.

Different from how Ahsoka would’ve felt, or Obi-Wan, or Padme. Caleb didn’t fight the way any of them did, either. And while the two of them  _ had _ worked well together, almost as well as when Caleb had been left on offsite support, they weren’t quite a smooth or seamless fit, not yet. But that would come with time.

Besides. Different wasn’t  _ bad. _ And Caleb had been  _ brilliant _ back there--a few small glitches, sure; but he’d adapted well and kept a steady head when things went a little bit sideways.

Anakin didn’t think he could’ve been more proud of him if he tried.

He reached over and squeezed Caleb’s shoulder. “Good job, kid,” he said. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

Caleb nodded and the two of them stood up in almost-perfect unison, disappearing into the new shadows cast by the burning building, and making their escape.


	20. Part 3, Chapter 7: Padme

Padme didn’t usually wait up for Sabe, since she almost never got home before three or four and the twins were almost always up and clamoring for her attention by six.

But tonight, after the explosion earlier, it was worth it. Most likely, Sabe wouldn’t know anything more than they’d put together earlier that afternoon, but it was possible that she’d heard something beyond what the official announcement had said. Either from any troopers who stopped in, or from second- or third-hand gossip. Padme wouldn’t know until they’d talked, and she didn’t want to wait until the next day.

The official announcement, at least, hadn’t changed. It had been repeated, twice, over the course of the evening--always the same party line, assuring the citizens of the town that the garrison was still in control but urging them to report any suspicious activity anyway. It was about what Padme had expected; and enough for her to start drafting another Redbird message.

Which she’d then scrapped. It was probably too specific, and might expose her location.

That was about where she was when Sabe did finally get in, on the later end of her usual window. Late enough, in fact, that Padme had been about to message her and see if everything was all right.

She did not look particularly surprised to see Padme was still up.

“Any problems?” Padme asked.

“Not…precisely,” she said, draping her coat over the banister like she always did. “Kitchen?”

Which meant something serious enough to take out of the more public area of their house--not that they’d really  _ had _ any guests yet, but they wanted those patterns and boundaries established before the twins started school--but not quite serious enough to need the extra layers of protection they’d put around her study. The kitchen was screened against most types of listening devices, anyway; and Artoo went over the entire house at least twice a day, just in case.

Padme nodded and led the way. “Want the droids in on this?”

She shook her head. “Not just yet.” She went for the kettle and raised an eyebrow at Padme, a silent question.

“Sure.” Sabe wouldn’t be making something overly caffeinated right before bed, so depending on how this conversation went, the  _ tea _ wouldn’t be what kept her from getting at least a little sleep before the twins were up.

That took a few minutes, and Padme waited until they each had a mug of tea and a couple cookies from the batch she’d let the kids help frost earlier before asking again.

“What happened?”

“I met him,” Sabe said.

Padme blinked. “Met…the bomber?”

“Saboteur,” Sabe corrected. “From what he said, he technically didn’t have any bombs, and I believe him.”

Padme considered that for a moment, stirring her tea. “…I’m sure you’ve thought of this already, but is there any chance he’s some kind of bait?” Which was always possible, whether they were already under suspicion or not--for Redbird, or for maybe not being quick enough to quell seditious murmurs in the Blackbird; because they’d been recognized; because the Empire Palpatine had created was exactly the kind of government that would watch everyone it  _ could... _

Or just because the circumstances, the bombing, meant  _ everyone _ was under heightened surveillance. Surveillance that almost certainly would fail to die down when the crisis had passed.

Not that Padme thought the bombing--sabotage--itself had been a play; the reaction from the local government had been one that felt like  _ containment, _ trying to regain control of the situation, rather than a planned exercise. But taking advantage of something like this, especially if they caught the bomber right away?

She didn’t think the local commandant was a savvy enough politician to pull that sort of trick. But the governor might be. And they were  _ definitely  _ amoral enough; she’d met them once before, while still in the Senate.

But Sabe shook her head. “Something thrown together this quickly, there would be signs I know how to spot. I scanned him for recording devices or trackers, and nothing came up, and I didn’t spot anyone who might’ve been his handler. I suppose it’s  _ remotely _ possible that there was a contingency plan in place and an agent was either imported or activated for that purpose, working under set instructions, but I don’t think so.”

“All right,” Padme said. She trusted Sabe’s judgment on this kind of thing. She was, after all, the spy. “So, you think he’s genuine.”

“I think he’s a genuine  _ idiot, _ frankly,” Sabe said, and sighed. “From what I gathered, he’s…full of righteous fury, and he  _ means _ well, but he didn’t think much past getting in and modifying some of the blaster packs.”

Padme knew the type. She looked down into her tea, blinking back sudden tears because even after two years, it still…

Sometimes it all came back in a rush. And the way Sabe described this bleeding-heart would-be rebel was  _ painfully _ familiar.

Because Anakin had been--that was  _ exactly _ the kind of thing Anakin would’ve done. Well, he was maybe better at improvising an exit strategy than this kid, but the rest…

Of course, if she were  _ totally _ honest, Padme had to admit that  _ she _ wasn’t all  _ that _ much better. Rushing in to solve a problem without any thought…how many times had she dragged Bail into an investigation without thinking things through? Not to mention the  _ Malevolence, _ or that thin thread a thief had given her, that had nearly gotten her and Anakin killed…the list went on.

Obi-Wan had always been the one to take a step back and actually think through an exit strategy. …most of the time, anyway. She had stories about  _ him, _ too. He was just…better at hiding it.

How her boys had survived as long as they had, in hindsight, was probably some kind of miracle.

She felt Sabe’s hand on hers and took a breath, turning away from her ghosts like she had a million times before. “Sorry,” she said, and cleared her throat. “Is he...this new friend of yours, is he all right? Where is he?”

Sabe squeezed her hand briefly, then withdrew, taking another sip of her tea before answering. “He managed to get out of the base without serious injury, because he has the luck of a minor deity. Right now, he’s drugged and sleeping in one of the storerooms in the Blackbird’s basement. I set a camera on him, just in case.”

Which, on the one hand, was a little cruel to do to someone who was almost certainly an ally. On the other hand…

Padme thought of the twins asleep upstairs, and couldn’t fault Sabe for extra caution. Just in case.

“I assume our next step is to get him offplanet?”

“Yes,” Sabe said. “That shouldn’t be too difficult. I can forge papers myself, with some help from Artoo, but I’ll probably have to dip into our savings to get him a ticket.”

“Of course,” Padme said, thinking through how much wiggle room they had. Even though they’d spent all of their seed money long since, the Blackbird did well enough that that shouldn’t be a problem.

“It’ll take me a day or two to get everything settled,” Sabe said. “I  _ think _ I’ll be able to keep him under wraps until then, but we should be prepared.”

“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it,” Padme said. They had a plan, of course; one of a half-dozen or so disasters the two of them had listed and done their best to prepare for, ranging from one or both of them getting arrested (whether the charges were accurate or not) to a more mundane flood or fire. They hadn’t run any drills with the twins yet--they were still a little young for that, and Padme wanted to avoid looking suspicious--but she and Sabe and the droids had worked out all the details in advance. Just in case.

“Yes,” she said, then set her cup down. “Which…I was thinking about something else, on my way home. And a little bit earlier, while I was securing our friend.”

“Oh?”

“This is the first time something like this has happened,” Sabe said, “but I very much doubt it will be the last.”

Padme considered that for a moment. “You’re probably right,” she said. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’d like to be better prepared next time,” Sabe said. “Nothing here in the house, not with the children. And I’d prefer it if you had some plausible deniability, as well.”

“So, basing out of the Blackbird instead,” she said. “Will that be safe? You do get raided sometimes.” Not because of anything she’d done or was suspected of doing, necessarily, but the local authorities made a show of checking various businesses for any type of illegal activity, ranging from health code violations to drug trafficking to treason.

“That’s something I’ll want to talk to Artoo about,” she said. “But I think, with his help, we can build a secret room in the basement. It won’t be comfortable, but it’ll keep any fugitives we choose to help hidden and safe until we can get them clear.”

“Then we should do it,” Padme said. It was like she’d said when she’d created Redbird. Their mission  _ was _ watching and waiting, but sooner or later, they’d have to  _ act  _ on what they knew. And this…this was a way to do it that played to Sabe’s strengths, the same way Redbird played to hers. Even if they couldn’t take direct, overt action on their own yet, they could help those who  _ were _ in a position to strike.

“I’m glad you agree,” Sabe said, with a smile. “I’d hoped you would, but...well.”

“Easy to get ahead of ourselves, right?”

Sabe raised her mug in a mock toast. “I’m better at idleness than you are, I think, but not quite  _ that _ much. Two years has been...a strain.”

“Yeah,” Padme said, clinking her mug with Sabe’s, then yawned, then laughed a little. “Sorry.”

“Get some sleep,” Sabe said. “I’ll get Artoo and start making plans. We’ll likely be at it for a while, so I can wrangle the little ones for a bit once they’re up.”

“Thanks,” Padme said, then downed the rest of her tea. “But wake me up if you--or they--really need me, all right?”

“Of course,” she said. “Good night.”

“‘Night,” Padme said, then rinsed out her mug and set it in the dishwasher before heading down the hallway to her room for what was left of the night.

She  _ was _ glad she’d stayed up--they’d had a productive conversation and she very much liked Sabe’s plans, but it had been a very long day for her, and sleep was definitely a good idea right now. She wasn’t totally sure that Sabe would be able to keep the kids from waking her up first thing in the morning, but...well, a few extra hours of sleep were a nice thought.

Still, an hour or two was better than nothing, and her bed  _ was _ particularly comfortable when she finally fell into it. She dimly heard Sabe and Artoo unlocking her study, with its extra safeguards, and then everything faded into a soft, contented silence.


	21. Part 4: 15 BBY, Chapter 1: Obi-Wan

The listening post was far from the largest or most heavily-guarded target Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had hit over the past four years, but it was one of the more dangerous nonetheless.

It had, after all, been set up and was currently manned by Imperial Security Bureau operatives.

Obi-Wan hadn’t worked with ISB’s predecessor agency under the Republic very often, but he knew enough to be cautious. Intelligence officers operated by a different set of rules to standard military, and their knowledge base and level of skill was much harder to predict. To say nothing of the much higher likelihood of automated  _ passive _ defenses--hidden cameras and other recording devices, harder to pinpoint and neutralize even for a pair of Jedi. Which meant that any exposure here would be that much harder to contain and have far greater consequences than any prior raid.

But he and Ahsoka knew what they were getting into, and had taken all of that into account when setting their plans. He was making one last check of their specialized weapons for this mission, while she did a final perimeter sweep. As soon as she rejoined him, they would be set.

As if summoned by his thoughts, she climbed up over the balcony railing to their staging area just as he checked the seal on their last smoke bomb.

“Any change?” he asked.

“Nope,” she said. “Same as last night. Different team on shift, but still six Humans.”

He nodded, and passed her two of the bombs and a gas mask. “We’re ready, then. Sync up?”

“Right.”

“On my mark,” he said, once she had her timer out and ready. “Three, two--mark.”

“See you in seven minutes,” she said, her grin disappearing behind her mask as she went back over the railing, heading for the target’s back entry.

Obi-Wan was already moving before she was fully out of sight, his own mask in place by the time he was in view of the front door. He shot out the lock and, when the door creaked partway open, tossed a flashbang and then the first of his smoke bombs in quick succession. The drug laced into the latter should, barring any atypical reaction, simply knock the guards out within thirty seconds. Clean and simple.

Of course, he had no intention of waiting that long; their recon and specs acquired on prior missions indicated countermeasures to precisely this type of attack would kick in all too quickly.

He counted to ten, in the hopes of giving himself a slight advantage against guards already growing disoriented, then went through the door himself.

Only one of the agents on duty was in the front room; a Human around Ahsoka’s age or perhaps a few years older. He was fumbling for a mask with one hand, but had his sidearm in the other, pointed at the door with impressive steadiness. He squeezed off two shots as soon as Obi-Wan entered the room; one grazed his shoulder, the other came within a hair of damaging his mask.

He fired a stun bolt in response, but the agent had the presence of mind to drop behind the console to avoid it. The board shot off a few sparks when the bolt hit it instead, but continued operating, so far as Obi-Wan could tell.

_ Good. _

Of course, dodging the bolt had caused the agent more problems than it solved; the gas was heavier than the planet’s atmosphere and the answering shots he fired went far wider than his first two had.

Obi-Wan spared half a second to check his timer--nearly two minutes down already, and he still had to scan the mainframe and make his exit. He grimaced faintly, and decided to chance it rather than continuing to actively combat the agent. The drug would, with any luck, be enough. He fired another stun bolt in the man’s general direction, just in case, but made straight for the console.

The agent was good at his job--or at least had had the presence of mind to log out before abandoning his terminal--but Obi-Wan wouldn’t have picked this target without a means of bypassing such stumbling blocks.

It took another precious twenty seconds for his data spike to work its way through the terminal’s security, and then, at last, several dozen files appeared on the screen.

Obi-Wan had neither the time nor the storage capacity for a full download; he sank into the Force and scanned the filenames, selecting any that jumped out at him. A file on the local governor; intercepted transmissions from a team of spice runners; manifests and flight plans for a few classified shipments; a partial trace on a transmission from someone codenamed Redbird; some experimental tech specs; applications for research funding--

The Force pinged a warning and Obi-Wan ducked to the side just in time; a blaster bolt passed through the air where his head had been, narrowly missing the terminal.

The agent, it seemed, had gotten his mask on and, while still unsteady, was  _ not _ prepared to give in.

Obi-Wan had to admire the man’s tenacity.

He fired back; two more stun bolts, one of which went wide as the agent dropped to the floor; the other missed him by a much narrower margin.

“Lay...lay down your weapon,” the man said, slightly slurred and mechanical through his mask. “And you will receive a fair trial.”

“Kind of you to offer,” Obi-Wan said, letting his eyes drift half-shut and keeping his blaster ready. “But I’m afraid I have another, rather pressing, engagement. So I will have to decline.”

The agent popped out of cover again, but Obi-Wan was ready; this time, his stun bolt connected and the man dropped, unconscious, to the floor.

Obi-Wan kept his blaster on him for a second or two longer, then relaxed. “Well, that was exciting,” he said; then turned back to the terminal to see if there was anything else of value.

Before he could make any such determinations, his comm beeped. His window was closing; time to leave.

He ejected his drive, closed all the files he’d been looking into, and made a swift and silent exit, back the way he came.

* * *

Ahsoka had beaten him to their staging area, and was sitting on the balcony railing with her back to the door, her legs swinging back and forth, her mask beside her.

“Obi-Wan, hi! You made it!” she said brightly, hopping down off the railing and spinning around to face him.

“Yes, I did,” he said, frowning. There was something-- _ off, _ about the way she was moving, but he couldn’t quite place it. “Is everything all right?”

“Uh-huh!” she said. “There was some, y’know, with the boys inside, but then the bomb went off and everything was fine. I got back  _ ages  _ ago, what kept you? I was worried.”

“I’m still within the window,” he said.  _ What is she…? _

A thought occurred; he moved past her to the railing and picked up her mask.

And there it was, a visible, jagged crack, running right through the ventilator.

_ Oh, dear. _

The gas acted as a sedative on Human biology; they were, perhaps, fortunate that it did  _ not _ have the same effect on Togruta. She almost certainly would have been captured, and, while they  _ did _ have at least the outline of a rescue plan if either of them needed it--well, it was better if he didn’t need to.

On the other hand…

“Oh.” She blinked, checked her comm. “...oh, yeah, weird. Anyway, I was just watching the stars. They’re so  _ sparkly, _ Obi-Wan!”

“Yes, they tend to do that,” he said. “Ahsoka, can you look at me for a moment? I want to check something.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” she said. She turned to him--a little past--wobbled and corrected herself.

“Thank you,” he said.

Her pupils were alarmingly dilated and her montrals, this close, were almost  _ visibly _ vibrating. He rested a hand on her forehead to check deeper; so far as his meager skills could determine, there was no significant damage internally. Synapses firing faster than they should, a sense of--scattered thoughts, scattered light.

But nothing that would be permanent. Just an interesting few hours, perhaps a day or two.

He relaxed, and let her go.

“Hey, Obi-Wan?” she said, blinking rapidly at him.

“Yes?”

“I think I can see  _ time.” _

...a  _ very _ interesting few hours.

“I’m sure,” he said. “But, you know, I think you’ll get a better vantage point from the ship. We should head back there, what do you say?”

“Yeah, okay,” she said, and started for the door before stopping and making another of those slightly-too-far turns to look at him again. “Oh, oh, oh, did you get it? The...I forget.” She frowned. “What were we stealing again?”

“Data, mostly,” he said. “And, yes, I think I got a good amount.” A little concerned she might get distracted again--or lost in the sparkly stars, or time, or whatever she thought she was seeing--he took her hand and started gently guiding her to the door again.

“Good,” she said. “I had a feeling we won today. And even if we don’t win tomorrow, you know, we won today, and the stars are sparkling, so everything’s nice, right? All blue-glowy and swirly and stuff.”

“That does sound lovely,” he said. He checked in the hallway, but there was no one to see. Good. “Ahsoka, I know you have a great deal on your mind right now, but can you please try to be quiet? Just until we’re outside.”

“Yeah, okay, I can do quiet. Shh.” She put a finger to her lips and held it there, as if to remind herself.

“Thank you,” he said; one more cautious peek around the corner and then he started off, keeping a firm grip on her hand. Just in case.

They had  _ almost _ made it to the door when she spoke again. “Hey, Obi-Wan?” she asked.

“Hm?”

“D’you think...d’you think, if I, if I look hard enough, at time and stuff…” She trailed off.

And he knew he shouldn’t press; should just thank the Force that she’d gone quiet again, but…

“Yes?”

“...d’you think I’ll see them again?” she asked. “Padme, and...and Anakin, and Rex, and...everyone?”

He stopped short; his heart skipped a beat, and he just barely restrained himself from clenching his hand around hers. “I don’t know,” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady. “But I don’t...I don’t think so, Ahsoka. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” she said. “...that’s okay. I saw them all the time before, so they’re right here, you know?” She tapped at her head with one finger, just barely managing to avoid poking herself in the eye. “...ow.”

Obi-Wan shook himself internally, dragged his mind out of the past and into the present; bringing his focus back to the very real danger they were in. Across the street from the ISB outpost they’d just attacked would have been a bad place to be at the best of times, and with Ahsoka not entirely herself...

“We should keep moving,” he said. “Just a bit longer, then we’ll be back on the ship and you can have some water and lie down for a while. All right?”

“Yeah, okay,” she said, and then pushed the door open and gasped. “Stars! Oh, there are so  _ many _ of them!”

“Yes, there are,” he said; then, with a sudden flash of inspiration, “why don’t you try counting them? Quietly, in your head--then, when we get to the ship, you can tell me how many?”

“Okay!” she said, and fell silent at his side. It might not last the rest of the way to the ship, but if she got distracted again…

_ Hopefully it will be by something less--something less painful. At least  _ one _ of us should stay focused until we’re back on safer ground. _

Either way, he had her hand; he’d keep her close. She wouldn’t  _ physically  _ wander off again, at least.

And if--or when--her mind did...well, he was sure he’d think of something.


	22. Part 4, Chapter 2: Anakin

Anakin and Caleb had just wrapped up another mission, which had been more successful than most--in and out clean, no unintended casualties, neither of them had gotten shot.

On the heels of that success, Anakin was busy in the cockpit, weighing their options for their next target. He’d been tentatively planning on another break, but after how well things had gone, he was more inclined to seize the initiative and ride this momentum as long as it took them. Especially since, at least as far as he could tell, neither he nor Caleb was anywhere close to  _ needing _ that step back, though he’d check with his apprentice later.

He had narrowed his vague list down to three decent possibilities when Caleb tapped on the door.

Not a problem, obviously, but not something he’d expected, either. Caleb wasn’t usually as wired as he was after a mission; or, better put, the two of them had  _ very _ different ways of waiting for this kind of adrenaline to fade. It hadn’t taken them long, after the first time Anakin had brought Caleb with him into active combat, for the two of them to learn that on this particular point, what each of them needed was often in conflict with the other.

So, once they were in hyperspace, Caleb had gone to his cabin to meditate and maybe sleep a little, while Anakin stayed in the cockpit and decompressed in his own way--back and forth between potential mission prep and his most recent mechanical project.

“It’s open,” he said, saving the file and setting his datapad aside. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah,” Caleb said. “But Redbird just started transmitting. I don’t think she’s giving us anything we can act on, but if you want to listen, we can still probably catch the tail end.”

“Good thought.” They hadn’t run any other missions based totally on Redbird’s intel since the first one, but Caleb had caught snatches here and there, bits and pieces the two of them had been able to add to the bigger picture and refine some of their targets.

It would be nice, he thought, to be able to actually  _ hear _ this person who had helped them so much over the past couple of years.

Anakin flipped a few switches on the comm console, set to record whatever he could, just in case. Caleb had made a habit of either forgetting or not having access to a receiver with the right settings to record Redbird every time he’d stumbled across one of her transmissions.

Not this time.

He nodded, and Caleb leaned over-- _ kriffing hell, I think he’s taller than  _ me _ now, when did  _ that  _ happen? _ \--and punched in the correct frequency.

“--member, even the darkest night can’t last forever. This is Redbird, signing off.”

Redbird’s voice dissolved into static, which blurred into the static swirling through Anakin’s mind.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t  _ breathe. _

How could--how did--was he--could--

“Master?” Caleb’s voice finally worked its way through the fog.

Anakin didn’t answer him; reached forward with a shaking hand to replay the message fragment; didn’t trust what he’d heard; _ how _ many times had he dreamed it; dreamed this--this  _ impossible _ thing; hearing--hearing one of them, somehow, from beyond the grave…

Sometimes, it all melted away into that old whisper-- _ come home, come home, come home; _ into vivid images of what he’d almost become, of what they would have thought of him if they’d known.

Sometimes, the dreams stayed solid--until he woke up and reality came crashing down and it was like that moment on Utapau, when he had to give up hope; or that moment on Mandalore, when he’d lost what little he’d had left.

“This is Redbird, signing off.”

There was no doubt.

That was Padme.

That was  _ Padme’s _ voice; for the first time since the broadcast of her funeral, when they’d--when they’d played clips of some of her speeches, Anakin could hear her  _ voice, _ outside his head.

She was out there, somewhere,  _ somewhere _ in the galaxy still.

She was  _ alive. _

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

He might have said her name, or it might have just been echoing around and around in his head because  _ she was alive! _

_ “Anakin!” _ Caleb said, a little more desperately; spiky tendrils of worry bleeding through.

Enough to pull Anakin out of his shock, at least.

He took a shaky breath, closed his eyes and held it for a moment, before letting it go and dragging his mind back to the present.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Caleb sat back in the copilot’s chair, visibly relieved. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” Anakin said. “I think. …yes.”

He didn’t look entirely convinced, but he nodded. “You…you recognized her?”

“Yes,” he said; another breath, slow and careful; tried to sink a little deeper into the Force to let it wash over the jagged edges of everything he was feeling. Everything he couldn’t put into words. “Padme. Senator Amidala.”

Caleb blinked; it clearly took him a minute to piece that together, put the name to a face, which the part of Anakin that was still kind of half-hysterical somehow found ridiculous and vaguely offensive and perfectly reasonable all at once.

Yes, Padme had been a particularly visible Senator, and of course Anakin thought  _ everyone _ should know who she was and how wonderful she was, but how much had Caleb actually  _ dealt _ with the Senate? Or even Ahsoka’s trial, or…or any of the other things that had been so important in Anakin’s world but probably barely registered to a freshly-partnered Padawan who had only  _ just  _ left the Temple?

“Right,” Caleb said. “The two of you…you were friends?”

…and that would be reality crashing down on him again.

On the plus side, that edge of hysteria was abruptly blunted, making it easier to think.

On the downside…

It  _ had  _ mattered, of course, for practical and personal reasons, everything that they all stood to lose when their relationship became public. In terms of position and…reputation wasn’t the word. Respect wasn’t, either, but…the way people looked at him.

It had  _ mattered, _ that Padme’s career would be derailed. That Anakin would lose that...that esteem. Mattered  _ more, _ frankly, that Obi-Wan, who had always had more of it in the first place, would lose it, too.

But somehow, even though Caleb was the only person here for him to disappoint, to lose, it mattered a hell of a lot  _ more _ now.

Still, he couldn’t  _ lie  _ to him. Whatever...whatever happened next, maintaining that delicate deception that he and his lovers had during the War was no longer an option.  _ Especially _ not where Caleb was concerned.

Anakin had never been very good at euphemisms. Outright lies, sure, when the situation called for it and he wasn’t trying to lie to someone he knew really well. But bluffing, subtle half-truths…that had always been Obi-Wan.

“We were together,” he said, quietly. “She and I and…and Obi-Wan, the three of us were…we were together.” Since Obi-Wan hadn’t been with them at Varykino for the wedding, and there had never been the right time or place to  _ correct _ that, and he--it didn’t feel right, to imply that their love for him was somehow  _ less _ than their love for each other.

So, ‘together’ was the better truth.

For a long,  _ long _ moment, Caleb didn’t say anything. Everything in Anakin wanted to nudge him a little, to push, but he--

Held his tongue.  _ Waited, _ hard as it was. Gave his apprentice time to mull that over.

“...wow,” he finally said. “That’s…”

“Yeah,” Anakin said. He sank back in the pilot’s seat, staring at the console. “I...we...did a lot of things we shouldn’t have. We lied, and that was...I don’t know. I like to think, if I could go back, I’d do things differently, but…” He blinked rapidly a few times. “When...it was right when the war started, and it all seemed so…”

The wedding had been Padme’s idea; Obi-Wan had been surprised when he’d found out that they’d actually gone that far, but Padme had wanted it. In case...in case the worst should happen.

And they’d  _ had _ that. They’d had three years together, and even if it was just stolen moments, half-hidden in the shadows…

_ “Marry me,” _ she’d whispered in his ear, after tracking him down at the field hospital and pushing her way past the medics.  _ “I don’t want to lose you again.” _

Obi-Wan had joined them later--not by much; it had been right after that near-disaster on the  _ Malevolence _ and honestly Anakin couldn’t remember who had said what or which of them had reached for Obi-Wan first, but they’d talked, on the  _ Twilight; _ and it had all just...fallen into place after that.

“I get it,” Caleb said. “I think.”

“We were going to do it right,” Anakin said. “We were. After--after the War was over, or Ahsoka passed her Trials...whichever came first, we were going to...we were going to do it  _ right.” _ They’d only had half-plans and vague notions of what that would  _ mean, _ but he and Obi-Wan couldn’t leave, not when they were still  _ needed _ like that.

Until--

Anakin hadn’t been able to bring himself to wonder about the baby. If--if she had died with her mother, or something worse had happened, or…

...he decided he still couldn’t do it. Not now. Not until--not until--

Not yet.

“I believe you,” Caleb said; and the simple truth in that shone in the Force.

Anakin sagged a little, with relief or just release of tension, he didn’t know. “I told you,” he said, “back when we started this, that I probably wasn’t a good Master for you.”

“You did,” he said. “And I’m...I’m not sure what I would’ve said, or done, if you’d told me all this back then. But now...everything’s  _ changed. _ And I know a lot more about who you  _ are, _ not just the things you did, and this...this doesn’t change that.” He took a slightly shaky breath, and the next part came slowly, like he was fighting with himself to put it into words. “And I don’t...I don’t know if I could’ve figured it out--the...the dreams, everything--without you to help. So I’m glad I stayed.”

The console lights flickered and swayed a little in Anakin’s vision, hazy and blurred.

“I’m  _ glad  _ I stayed,” Caleb repeated, more firmly this time. “And I think we should go find her.”

“Thank you,” Anakin said. “For understanding. And...and so many other things.”

“Hey,” Caleb said, and even if Anakin wasn’t looking at him, he could hear that crooked smile in his voice. “I’m not saying I understand  _ all _ of it. But I trust you.”

He nodded, sniffed a little. “So, we’ll track her down, then.”

“Yeah.”

And then another memory hit; the freezing cold Council chamber and heavy hands, landing warm on his shoulders--

“Caleb,” he said, sitting up and actually looking at him directly now.

“Yeah?”

“This doesn’t mean I’m walking away,” Anakin said. “All right? Whatever happens, when we find her...you’re my Padawan. And my  _ friend. _ That doesn’t change. Not until you’re ready. Not unless you want it to.”

A hint of surprise, then exasperation and fondness and maybe just a  _ little _ bit of muted relief spilled out into the Force.

“I knew that,” Caleb said.

“Good,” Anakin said, then kind of awkwardly reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

Caleb rolled his eyes, but smiled, and the last of the tension in the air dissipated.

“So,” Caleb said, after a moment of comfortable silence that let them settle a little, back into their own thoughts. “We’ve got...ten seconds of a recording, and...not a lot else. How do we even  _ find _ her?”

“Good question,” Anakin said. He pushed a few keys on the console, sending the file to his datapad so he could access everything else. Anything about point of origin, types of filters-- _ anything _ that might give him a heading. “We’ll start with this, and anything else you remember from her other transmissions. And then...we’ll see where that takes us.”

He nodded. “That’s...we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

“Yeah,” he said.

Caleb grinned a little. “So let’s get started.”


	23. Part 4, Chapter 3: Obi-Wan

Once he’d gotten Ahsoka mostly settled--as settled as she could be, until the drug worked its way out of her system, anyway--Obi-Wan set himself up in the corridor outside her berth to start sifting through the stolen data.

Most of it was about what he’d expected, and would take more detailed analysis to find actual actionable details, and he filed it accordingly. The weapons schematics...very interesting. Possibly Ahsoka could make something of them. They were reasonably well-supplied at the moment, and upgrades weren’t precisely a priority, but some of these looked…well, even less civilized than a standard blaster. The fewer remained in Imperial hands, the better. Ahsoka was better at mechanics than he was; she’d have a better idea which of these they should neutralize and which might be worth repurposing. For their own use, or to pass on to other anti-Imperial groups or sell to Hondo or some other reasonably ethical black market dealer.

But then--

_…hm._

Redbird was a name he’d heard whispered here and there, in cantinas in the Tyram sector. A ghost on the airwaves, according to rumor; a woman’s voice countering propaganda and urging people to hold out hope, to resist. A beacon, a guiding light, through dark times.

 _If_ Redbird existed the way the rumors claimed she did, Obi-Wan’s best guess was that it was actually the shared codename of a group of agents, but he’d had his doubts about the whole thing in the past. It seemed far too neat, far too good to be true. More likely, Redbird was an ISB trap, set out as bait to see what they could catch.

Of course, now he had evidence of a partial trace of a Redbird transmission, pulled from an ISB server. His scanners and other slicing equipment showed no indications that it was a shell program or virus or any other sort of plant. Which meant Redbird, however implausible, _was_ real.

He ran one more scan of the trace file, then opened it. It included a half-finished transcript, as well as a recording of the message in question--over a minute long, and yet still the trace was incomplete. It only got as far as the sector in which most of the rumors had sprung up, and that the message was from a static location on some kind of planetary or lunar mass, rather than transmitted from a ship.

The message itself was heavily encrypted, but not to protect its contents; only that point of origin. Whoever Redbird was, they _wanted_ to be heard.

Which, he supposed, made sense. Based on the rumors he’d heard, given the content of the messages, Redbird would absolutely want to be heard by anyone in range. The transcript certainly supported that assumption:

_“To whoever may be listening. I’m sure you’ve heard rumors by now, of a natural disaster on Kyreema. I’m sure you’ve also heard the official explanation, that the unseasonal flooding was the result of heavier rains than anticipated, and given the necessity of the local infrastructure, the Empire would be stepping in to repair the damage and manage the irrigation networks from now on._

_That second part, I’ll admit,_ is _true, though I’ll get to why it’s a problem in a moment, if there’s time. But as to the heavier rains--”_

Once Obi-Wan had gathered as much as he could from the metadata, transcript, and the ISB agents’ notes, he cued up the recording. Perhaps there was something in Redbird’s accent or inflection, or the choice of whatever scrambler they were using, that might be useful or interesting to know.

“To whoever may be listening.”

He jerked, nearly dropping his datapad on the floor, heart pounding in his throat.

Because Redbird was _not_ using any kind of vocal scrambler.

“I’m sure you’ve heard rumors by now, of a natural disaster on Kyreema.”

He shut it off, unable to think clearly with--with _Padme’s_ voice, with _her_ ghost swirling around him.

 _It--it can’t--how--how can this--how can she--she’s alive? Is she_ alive? _After all this time, is it_ possible _that--_

_If I look hard enough...d’you think I’ll see them again?_

Drug-induced mania was _not_ prophecy.

And yet...

The _timing_ of it all was _far_ too neat, and Obi-Wan found it hard to credit mere coincidence.

Something larger, perhaps, was at work here.

There was a faint thump from the room behind him, and, as if summoned by his thoughts, the door slid open to show Ahsoka, still a little unsteady, eyes still a little bloodshot and wide with shock.

“I…I thought I had mostly come down, but I could’ve _sworn_ I just heard--”

Silently, he hit play again.

“To whoever may be listening.”

Ahsoka sank down to the ground next to him, drawing her knees up to her chest. “That’s her,” she said. “That’s…real. Not…not spliced or anything.”

“Yes,” he said. “It...it would seem so.”

She blinked at his screen, as if having trouble focusing. He passed her the datapad to let her examine the trace. She stared at it for a long moment, holding it at an oblique angle, which might have helped to bring it into focus. “…it’ll take a while to find her. A whole sector to search…”

“Not a whole one,” he said, the practicalities pulling him out of his shock. “We…we _know_ her, we can probably narrow it down based on the kind of place she’d choose to hide.”

“We can,” Ahsoka agreed, sitting up a little straighter--and then she winced and handed the datapad back. “…tomorrow, though? My head’s still a little...”

He laughed a little, and relaxed, resting a hand on her shoulder briefly. “Yes, tomorrow will be soon enough, I think. Better, even. Give us a chance to…to process this.”

“Yeah.”

It would still take time to find her, of course. Weeks, or months--maybe as much as a year or two. They knew Padme, they knew _some_ of the parameters she would have, but there were gaps. Significant ones. But they could also start monitoring for Redbird transmissions, gather more data--

And then…

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure exactly _what_ would happen then. And, yes, there was every chance that seeing one another again would be--warm, and beautiful, and everything he’d missed over the past four years. He knew it wouldn’t be simply falling back into each other’s arms as if it had been a matter of days or weeks, of course. Too much had changed for that. But it was possible that it would be...that seeing Padme again, that her seeing _him_ again, would be as close to that kind of miracle as it was possible to be.

But there was also a chance that things would...that things would fall apart instead. They had lost Anakin. They had lost _so much._ And maybe that grief, those memories, would be...too painful. It hadn’t been so with Ahsoka, but Obi-Wan knew that even the most loving of relationships sometimes...sometimes ended, under such circumstances. The loss of another partner, or a--or a child…

 _Try not to borrow trouble,_ he reprimanded himself. _Padme is_ alive, _and you will see her again. Soon. And that will be good. Besides, after everything you went through together before--_ before, _the first scenario is_ far _more likely._

And now that the possibility was in front of him, he could think of nothing he wanted more than to see her and hold her and _be_ held again. Even if there was still an empty seat beside them, they would have each other again.

They would have each other. That was--that was miracle enough.


	24. Part 4, Chapter 4: Padme

Padme was halfway through giving the twins their dinner when her comm buzzed.

“Be right back,” she said, dropping a kiss on top of her son’s head, since he was right there and why not, and went to check the message. It had to be from Sabe, who wouldn’t have messaged her unless it was urgent.

Text only, three words.

Three words that changed everything.

_ Soldiers in basement. _

_...hells. _

“Okay, everyone,” she said, keeping her voice calm and as light as possible so she didn’t scare the kids, “we’re leaving. Just like we practiced, okay?”

“Mama?” Luke asked.

She smiled at him, as reassuringly as she could. “Don’t worry about finishing your plates, just go and pick one toy and meet Mama and Threepio and Artoo in the hallway, okay?”

“Okay,” Leia said, wriggling down out of her chair and stopping to wait, impatiently, for her brother. “...can I bring Moose  _ and _ Aree?”

“No, sweetheart,” Padme said.  _ “One  _ toy, just like we practiced. Why don’t you see which one of you can get ready fastest, okay?”

That was all it took, really, and the twins were off and running.

“Artoo, Threepio, get moving,” she said, letting her voice harden a little. “I don’t know how much time we have.”

Artoo beeped in acknowledgement and trundled off into the main room; Threepio kept the babbling to a minimum as he followed the twins to make sure they got their shoes and coats and other necessities, while she headed for her study.

Because that message meant the secret room in the Blackbird’s basement had been compromised. One of the disasters she and Sabe had planned for, along with getting caught as Redbird, the twins’ Jedi potential being spotted, any of them being recognized by someone who happened to know their faces…

In the two years since Sabe had started hiding fugitives, they’d helped maybe a dozen freedom fighters and others at risk of being locked away as political prisoners. They hadn’t had a problem until now, and, fortunately, Sabe didn’t have anyone  _ in _ the secret room at the moment, but just  _ having _ it was damning enough. And now there were stormtroopers, investigating the cantina. Even if they weren’t specifically  _ looking _ for it, if they hadn’t found it already, it was only a matter of time.

Otherwise, Sabe would never have sent that message.

This wasn’t even really the worst case scenario, as far as the two of them had organized their thoughts. Sabe had contingencies to get herself out of the Blackbird, and even if she couldn’t, it would take a long time to identify her in a way that would cause Padme and the children any problems.

Not that that would be necessary, because Sabe’s contingencies of  _ course _ would save her. Padme had absolute faith in her old friend, that she would get clear, as they’d discussed, and meet them at the ship they’d hidden just outside of town.

As the twins had gotten older, she’d taken the time to show them the back exit Threepio and Artoo had installed, telling them it was a special door for emergencies, and they weren’t  _ ever  _ supposed to open it unless Mama or Aunt Cera or one of the droids was there to help. But just in case they  _ did _ need to make a run for it, she wanted the twins prepared. It would be easier on everyone, now that they were old enough that it was a little harder to just carry them like when they were babies, if the twins knew where to go and what to do in an emergency.

So they’d practiced, with her and Sabe and the droids, and the adults had worked out what  _ they _ were supposed to do, too. In this case, Threepio was in charge of gathering up essentials and making sure the twins got where they needed to be, while Padme destroyed anything they couldn’t take but couldn’t afford to leave behind, and Artoo began remote checks and activations for their getaway vehicle and monitored for any immediate threats.

She initiated wipes on her primary datapad--too bulky to carry--and disassembled and packed up as much of her Redbird equipment as she could before setting the rest to erase itself as well. That done, she retrieved the pistol from the upper right drawer and slipped it into a hidden pocket of her skirt--almost the same design as the combat outfit Sabe had worn, when in place as her decoy during the liberation of Naboo. Lucky she’d decided to wear it this morning; she could move and fight in it with minimal difficulty.

All in all, it only took about six and a half minutes for her and Threepio and the children to congregate at the closet that led to the back door; Artoo, most likely, would join them any minute now.

“Good job,” she said, bending down and hugging both her kids. “Now, stay close, and be quiet, all right? Just like we practiced.”

“Is Auntie Cera coming?” Luke asked.

“Not right away, Lulu,” she said. “She’s probably going to meet us at the ship, but she might not join us until later.”

“Okay.”

And then Artoo let out an urgent beep from the far end of the hall.

“...I’ll be right back,” she promised, and went to join him. “Problem?”

For answer, taking care to angle it out of the twins’ line of sight, he projected an image from one of their hidden cameras--two stormtroopers and an older man in a duty uniform were heading their way.

_ Kriff, _ she thought, then took a few seconds to consider her options.

_...we can’t get away without some kind of distraction. And the droids won’t be able to stall them long enough, and I’m not doing anything more drastic than talking until the twins are clear. Not unless I have no other choice. Damn it. _

She took a breath, and went back to her kids, hugging them close one more time. She kissed Leia quickly, then Luke. “You’re gonna go with Artoo and Threepio, okay?”

“Mama!” Leia protested.

“I’ll be right behind you,” she promised. “We practiced this one, too, remember? Everything’s going to be okay, Mama just has to finish up one last thing, then we’ll all leave together. But you have to be very brave, and go to the ship, okay?”

“I wanna stay,” she said, and Padme’s heart constricted.

“Not this time, sweetheart,” she said. “I’ll be fine, and I’ll see you soon. But you have to go now. Remember? Fast as you can.” She smiled, and hoped it didn’t look too brittle.

“Okay,” Leia said, reluctantly, reaching for her brother’s hand.

Luke didn’t say a word, just nodded solemnly, trying to pretend his lip wasn’t quivering, and she hugged them one last time before giving them a gentle nudge down the passageway.

They went, finally, holding hands; “Oh, dear,” Threepio muttered, before following after them, taking care not to bump his awkward, bulky backpack along the walls.

Padme let out a slightly-shaky breath. “Artoo,” she said, as he passed her; hating herself for lying to her children but...but whatever happened next, the droids would keep them safe. She had faith in that. “Artoo, you know the protocol, how long to wait for us.”

He crooned sadly, then wheeled off down the passageway, following his counterpart and the children.

She shut the hidden door behind them; with only a moment to spare before the soldiers came knocking on her door.


	25. Part 4, Chapter 5: Padme

There was another round of pounding on her door as Padme came into the living room.

“ISB,” a voice came from outside. “Open the door immediately, or we  _ will _ break it down.” The voice was male and not at all mechanical. Probably the man in the duty uniform.

Or, at least, that was what the analytical side of Padme’s brain supplied.

As for the rest...

_ Kriff. _

ISB meant absolutely  _ nothing _ good.

“Just a moment!” she called. She peeked through the camera--exactly what Artoo had shown her before--then took a breath to steady herself before opening the door. “I’m sorry, I was in the other room, what’s...what’s going on?”

“Rida Pentai?” the uniformed man said.

“Yes,” she said. “What’s happened? Is something wrong, Agent…?”

“Magan,” he said, with a thin, chilly smile. “Your name came up in the course of one of our investigations, Ms. Pentai. We would like to ask you a few questions.”

“An investigation?” she asked. “I can’t imagine--investigation into what?”

“I’m afraid that’s classified,” he said, still polite, but his smile hardened just a hair. “However, as I said, we do have some questions we need to ask you. If you’ll kindly come down to the base with us, we can sort everything out.”

That was  _ not _ an option; she couldn’t exactly stop the troopers from searching the house while she was there, but if she left them  _ alone... _

“I’m happy to cooperate, of course,” she said, widening her eyes slightly and putting on her most innocent face. “Anything I can do to help. But could we talk here instead of your office? My droids took the children out, they’ll be back before too long and I don’t want them to worry too much. Unless I’m under arrest?”

Magan considered her for a moment. “Not at this time,” he said, then nodded. “Very well, we’ll proceed.”

“Thank you,” she said, with a smile. “Please, have a seat. Let me make you some tea, and I think I have some cookies in the kitchen…” She headed that way before he could order her to do anything else.

“That won’t be necessary, Ms. Pentai,” he said, but neither he nor the troopers with him made any effort to actually  _ stop _ her. His sharp eyes took in the slight disarray of the living room. About what one would expect, from a household with two small children that hadn’t anticipated any guests. She assumed. She  _ hoped. _

As for his escort, one trooper took up a position beside the door, while the other went down the hall to search the bedrooms. No one had followed her into the kitchen, which was stupid on their part, but  _ very _ good for her.

Tea.

It was a long shot that Agent Magan would actually drink it, but if she  _ could _ drug him, it would make getting out of this that much easier. She fixed two mugs--one with a hint of something extra--as quickly as she could, dumped a handful of cookies onto a plate, and rejoined him in the living room.

“Thank you,” he said, with another of those chilly smiles. “Have a seat.”

“Right,” she said, moving one of Luke’s toys aside to take a chair across from him, and taking a sip of her own tea. It was more bitter than she usually liked, which might help keep her focused.

“Are you alone at present, Ms. Pentai?” Agent Magan asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Like I said before, my children are out with the droids, and my sister is still at work.”

“Of course,” he said. “Your sister, that would be Cera Verlaine?” He set his mug aside and pulled out a datapad, keying up a file at an angle where she couldn’t peek at his screen.

“That’s right, Agent,” she said. “We own the Blackbird cantina, I’m not sure you know it?”

“I’m familiar,” he said. “You came to Laetyr III a little over four years ago, correct? With Ms. Verlaine, two droids, and twin infants.”

“Yes,” she said. “Just after...just after the War ended.”

“Indeed. Why?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Why did you come to Laetyr III?”

“Oh,” she said. She fidgeted with her mug for a moment; took a breath. “My...my husband...died. At the very end of the war.”

“My condolences,” he said, when she didn’t continue right away.

“Thank you,” she said, with a weak smile. “It was...difficult. Especially with the twins, and I...needed a fresh start. With travel being an option again, Cera suggested we move, and Amyr was just different enough, you know?”

“You were living on Alderaan before?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Amyr is different from Aldera City, indeed. Fewer mountains, for one.”

“True,” she said. “And out of the way. Quiet. But not--isolated. Amyr is still enough of a town that it wasn’t...it wasn’t a  _ total _ shock, but…different enough.”

“Indeed,” he said again, and made a few notes on his ‘pad. “Why did your sister move with you?”

“We’ve always been close,” she said. “And I knew I’d probably need help with the children, so when she suggested I move, I asked if she’d come along.”

“It was her idea to purchase the Blackbird?”

“That’s right.”

“Hm.” Another note. “She is your elder sister, correct?”

“By a year,” she said.

“And you said you were close. I imagine you feel a strong sense of loyalty to her, is that correct?”

Padme blinked. “...I’m not sure I understand, sir? She’s my sister, of course I--I love her, and I owe her so much, she’s been...I don’t think I could’ve managed, after my...my husband...I couldn’t have done this without her help.”

“I see,” he said. “And I respect that. The affection, and the...sense of obligation. Family ties are important, Ms. Pentai. You can hardly be criticized for that.”

“Of course,” she said, doing her best to sound innocent and puzzled.

That thin smile was back on his face; she could hear the second trooper moving down the hall, clearing each room in turn, working his way out towards the kitchen.

“Tell me, Ms. Pentai,” Agent Magan said, setting his ‘pad down and looking her right in the eye. “Have you ever noticed any...seditious leanings in your sister?”

Padme blinked. “Seditious?” she asked.  _ “Cera? _ No, of course not. She’s the most loyal person I know.” And that last bit, at least, was true. It would help sell the rest of the lie.

“Hm,” he said. “I’m afraid that doesn’t say much for your other friends.”

And there was something in the way he said it...

_ He knows. He knows what Sabe’s been doing, and all he’s waiting on is confirmation that I’m involved. Hells. _

He might not know the full extent of who and what she was, what she and Sabe were truly capable of, but he knew.

He  _ knew _ she was trying to play him

She’d spent half her life in politics, and she drew on all of that experience, all of that ability to present a calm, serene exterior in the face of great turmoil; to not give a flicker of her plans away. She calculated how quickly she could get the gun in her pocket; how quickly he was likely to be able to draw his; how quickly the stormtrooper at the door would be able to respond; listened for the one in the back…

He still hadn’t drunk the tea she’d fixed him. That would make this harder.

_ I can do it, _ she thought.  _ It won’t be  _ easy, _ but I can do it. _

“What do you mean?” she said, playing along; buying time; waiting for just the right moment to draw her weapon and fire.

“Ms. Verlaine has been harboring fugitives in the basement of her bar.”

“Fugitives?”

“Saboteurs. Among others.”

_ Not yet. Not yet. _ Her heart pounded in her throat, and she felt a bead of sweat begin to trickle down her neck. Her face, though, she was  _ positive _ she was maintaining.

Even without the Queen’s makeup, she’d be  _ damned _ if she let this man crack her mask.

“Hells.”

“Indeed,” he said.

The second trooper came out of the kitchen, and said something Padme couldn’t quite catch to Agent Magan.

“...ah,” he said, and turned back to her, hand moving casually to his own sidearm. “You said your children were out with your droids?”

“I did,” she said. “Because they are.”

“Then why are there two unfinished plates, still warm, sitting in your kitchen?”

And that was the signal she was waiting for.

She reached into her pocket and, not bothering to actually  _ draw _ her gun, fired twice at him through her skirt before throwing herself out of her armchair and diving behind it, for what little cover it might provide.

Her first shot went wide; she heard the window shatter behind him; but the second--

“Set to  _ stun, _ damn it!” Magan said, voice brittle with pain. “I need her alive!”

She didn’t wait for them to do it; poked her head around the chair and placed her shots with care, two at each trooper.

The one at the door went down immediately, the other moved to cover Agent Magan and took a glancing hit to the shoulder--dominant arm, she thought,  _ and _ he was blocking any line of fire Magan might--

Nope. Magan fired right  _ through  _ the trooper; she ducked behind the chair just in time for the bolt to fly past her.

“What happened to  _ stun, _ Agent?” she called, before poking back around, taking aim, and firing one last shot.

Magan’s only response was a grunt; he didn’t return fire.

Slowly, she came out from behind the chair, keeping her pistol at the ready. The trooper Magan had shot was dead, based on the smoking hole in his chest. Behind him, the Agent himself was choking on his last breath, eyes towards the ceiling cloudy and unfixed.

And then...silence.

Padme let out a shaky breath of her own, and after confirming the trooper at the door was dead as well, she took half a second to check the time and swore. Artoo knew the protocol. He and Threepio and the twins would be taking off any minute now. She’d never make it in time.

But it was fine. It was  _ fine. _ She’d find another way offplanet, and they had a backup meeting point, just in case.

And, through the broken window, she could see a column of smoke off in the direction of the Blackbird, which reminded her too, too much of the night she’d lost her lovers.

She couldn’t go through that again.  _ Especially _ not after...after having to tell even the edited version of the story to Magan.

She shook her head, banishing those ghosts as best she could. Remembering would just get her killed. And maybe Sabe, too.

Because Sabe was still alive, and she  _ could _ get to her in time. She  _ would. _

She  _ had to. _

“...she’s going to kill me,” Padme muttered, as she stepped over the trooper’s body, and took off toward the Blackbird at a dead run.


	26. Part 4, Chapter 6: Anakin

It had been a long, frustrating four months since Anakin had heard Padme’s voice again.

Four months of picking over that transmission, and a few more that followed, for every scrap of data they could offer.

Four months of poring over sector maps in a half-meditative state, begging the Force for any kind of inspiration.

Anakin had stopped short from trying to call on any friends or favors he might have--most people he could think of had been Obi-Wan’s friends more than his, so there was no guarantee they’d help him even  _ if _ they were still alive. And even if the balance weren’t  _ way _ on her side, he knew Bo-Katan and Mandalore had their own problems--he’d go back and settle that, someday, if she would let him, but--but Padme first.

And the  _ last _ thing he wanted to do was compromise Padme’s safety by leading her enemies right to her. So since there wasn’t anyone he wasn’t  _ absolutely _ sure of--no. He and Caleb were on their own.

But they had thrown everything  _ else _ they could think of at the problem and, at long last, they’d managed to tease out a very faint thread, more promising than any of the other leads that had proved dead ends before they even got there.

And that thread had brought them out here, to a small city on the third planet in the Laetyr system. And, as soon as they landed, Anakin  _ knew _ this was the right place.

He wasn’t quite sure  _ how; _ he couldn’t sense Padme, not yet; as much as he knew her, as much as he loved her, it was that much harder to find someone who wasn’t Force-sensitive. He’d need to get a lot closer.

Still, he was  _ sure. _ She was here.

There was...something else, too; some tension underlying everything that was a lot harder to define.

“Master?” Caleb said.

He jerked a little. “...sorry,” he said. He closed his eyes, and let out a breath, centering himself and narrowing his focus before he spiraled too far out of control.

It was like Caleb had said, back in the beginning. Going back to basics with his apprentice, who had been on the edge of his own spiral, guilt and grief and nightmares...that had helped Anakin fix his own foundations.

Still not perfect, but a lot better than he had been. And probably a lot better than he  _ would _ have been, if he’d stuck to his original rules.

So it only took him a few seconds; hee opened his eyes when he was ready. “Stay close,” he said. “And keep your eyes open.”

Caleb nodded and fell into step behind him as they left the ship and began to explore.

Anakin kept them moving in a seemingly-haphazard spiral, trying to avoid looking like he was moving in a pattern even though he actually was; he worked his way out from the port, sticking for the moment to more populated areas. Markets, industrial areas--everything still underlaid with that  _ something-is-happening _ tension that he couldn’t quite define.

Not fear, not danger, just...tension.

Behind him, he could sense Caleb focusing more on the stormtroopers dotted here and there throughout the town. Good; that meant Anakin didn’t have to divide his attention. The kid had come a long way in a little under four years. He could absolutely trust him with that.

They’d been at it for about an hour when the tension  _ spiked; _ an explosion ripped through the air from a couple blocks away. It may not have been related to Padme--he couldn’t tell, not yet--but he couldn’t  _ ignore _ that, either.

“Come on,” Anakin said; without waiting for Caleb to reply, he shifted tactics, heading in that direction.

Most of the people around him, on the other hand, kept about their business. Which said something about the quality of the Imperial occupation here.

_ Worry about that later. Focus on your primary mission. _

The source of the explosion turned out to be a small cantina; charred, with the roof half-collapsed; a damaged sign over the door marked it as the Blackbird. There were two dead stormtroopers outside, another two who had been knocked out by the explosion.

And inside--

One person alive; not Padme, but hurt.

Caleb was half a step behind him; Anakin signalled him to follow and sank into the Force, picking his way carefully across the unstable rubble to see who it was.

There was a woman, half-buried in what was left of the bar with a heavy ceiling beam lying across her.

Anakin’s heart skipped a beat.

Because he  _ knew _ Padme well enough to spot the differences in an instant, but there were few enough that--

_ Sabe! _

He shook it off as fast as he could and made his way over to her to see if he could do anything. Healing had never been his strong suit, but he could at least figure out a way to extract her.

She was trying to reach her gun, which was just out of her reach, when they were close enough for her to see. She froze, and her eyes widened.  _ “Skywalker?” _ she breathed.

“Hey,” he said. He frowned a little, then knelt beside her. “I know, we’ve got a lot to--I’ll explain later. Just...hang on, we’re going to get you out of here, okay?”

She nodded.

He let his eyes drift shut and probed at the rubble around her with the Force.

Oh, she was  _ lucky. _

Her leg was broken, pretty badly, and she had burns and abrasions of varying severity, but her skull and her breathing seemed okay; the beam was just  _ barely _ supported by the rest of the rubble a centimeter or so above her body, not actually crushing any part of her. Which meant he could move it without starting any kind of catastrophic blood flow.

On the other hand, moving it without causing a  _ further _ collapse would be...not easy. Not at  _ all _ easy.

But he’d figure it out.

“She...she’s not here,” Sabe said, when he opened his eyes again. Her voice was tight with pain; he wished there was more he could do for her. “We had a...a plan.”

That didn’t...feel right to him. Not that she was lying, but that she wasn’t  _ right. _

He decided to worry about that later.

_ Keep her talking. Keep her calm. Get her out of here, then worry about the rest. _

“Was the explosion part of that plan?” he asked, resting his hands on the beam to try and examine it from a different angle.

She shook her head. “Stray bolt. Hit a keg. Just the wrong angle.”

He winced in sympathy. “Yeah, I’ve been there.”

The rubble, not entirely stable to start with, shifted a little and she paled.  _ Running out of time. I hope this works. _

“Caleb,” he said.

Caleb nodded, and got into position behind Sabe.

“Brace yourself,” Anakin warned her, and she nodded. He made sure he had a solid grip on the beam, and as much as he could on the rubble surrounding it, and lifted it off her.

Caleb pulled her back in one smooth motion. She yelped a little when the motion pulled at her injured leg, and lost consciousness.

The wreckage  _ wanted _ to slip out of Anakin’s hands, wanted to fill the void she’d left and that would start a chain reaction, bringing what was left of the ceiling down; there was no way he’d be able to counter that much gravity and inertia for much longer.

_ “Move!” _ he said. Caleb didn’t need to be told twice; he picked Sabe up and ran for the exit.

Anakin followed, letting go of the rubble as soon as they were clear.

“Now...now what?” Caleb asked, when he caught his breath.

Anakin thought for a moment, resting one hand on Sabe’s head to check--unconscious, and definitely in need of medical attention, but not in immediate danger of death.

And, any minute now, this place would be  _ crawling _ with local and Imperial authorities. Frankly, the fact that they hadn’t shown up  _ yet _ was astounding. Sabe must have been  _ fast, _ to keep the first team from summoning backup.

“Get her out of here,” Anakin said. “Back to the ship, do what you can for her. I’m going to--I have to keep looking. At least a little longer.”

He nodded, and shifted his hold on Sabe; so he was still supporting her but had a hand free to defend himself if needed. “How long do I wait?”

He grimaced. “...use your judgement,” he decided. “But fifteen minutes at the  _ most. _ If I don’t join you by then, I’ll meet you...back the first place we went, after Kaller. Unless you hear otherwise.”

Caleb nodded. “Understood, Master,” he said. “May the Force be with you.”

“You too, kid,” Anakin said, and then Caleb was off.


	27. Part 4, Chapter 7: Obi-Wan

The town of Amyr, on the third planet in the Laetyr system, was the seventh Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had carefully investigated in the months since they’d first heard Padme’s transmissions. In that time, there had been five new messages; and after each one, they’d been able to refine their search. Partly by attempting their own traces, partly by attempting to line up references she made with official or unofficial events in the sector, and partly by instinct.

No luck so far, but they were getting closer. He was certain of it.

They landed on the outskirts, rather than run the risk of official papers on their ship, particularly with a full garrison so close. And, as they made their approach, Obi-Wan felt a subtle tension in the air. Whether or not this was the town they were looking for, there was  _ something _ here that merited their attention.

From the way Ahsoka’s hands stilled on the yoke, she felt it, too.

“Danger?” he asked.

“Not sure,” she said. “I don’t think so. Or not actively. Just…important.”

He nodded. “Do you want the market or the cantina this time?” As those were the two places that were best for both information-gathering and blending in, they had made a habit of starting there.

“Market,” she said. “There’s a couple things I want to see if I can track down anyway.”

“All right,” he said, then fell silent as she brought the ship in for a landing.

No trouble from air traffic control; no suspicious TIE fighters or other Imperial ships challenging them; given that subtle tension in the air, Obi-Wan was almost concerned that things were going  _ too _ smoothly.

Still, they landed; left the ship hidden under a makeshift camouflage--not quite a cloaking device; the ship wasn’t large enough to support one; but something similar Ahsoka had invented--and started hiking towards the town.

They were, perhaps, a quarter mile out when they heard someone approaching.

Ahsoka went still, montrals twitching slightly towards the sound.

Obi-Wan touched her shoulder and she nodded; the two of them fell back off the path. The trees and underbrush wouldn’t conceal them for long, but it would be just enough for them to get the jump on any threat heading their way.

The group rounded the corner; a protocol droid, an astromech, and two small children; seeming in a hurry.

It took Obi-Wan half a second to recognize the droids, but Ahsoka was ahead of him, already stepping into the path.

“Oh!” Threepio said, coming to a startled halt. “Mistress  _ Ahsoka? _ Is that you?! Well, bless my circuits, I never thought I’d see you again! Oh, you  _ are _ such a relief to see--and Master Obi-Wan!”

Obi-Wan let the droid’s babbling fade into the background, as the rest of his brain caught up.

He didn’t know much about children, but at his best...at his best guess, these children were--five, perhaps, or--or possibly--approximately--four years old.

They were  _ four. _

He hadn’t--he hadn’t been able to think about that possibility, about the child that Padme had so  _ wanted, _ had been so happy to tell them about after the battle on the  _ Invisible Hand. _

And there were  _ twins. _ None of them had realized there were  _ twins. _

_ Anakin’s, I think, _ he thought, with a stab of bittersweet feeling he couldn’t name. It had never really mattered, of course; except that Anakin was--was gone, and this little girl with his stubborn chin and the little boy with his round blue eyes were…

The children seemed uncertain; of course, he and Ahsoka were strangers, even if the droids they clearly knew and trusted had recognized them.

He knelt on the ground, to get a little closer to their level. “Hello,” he said, softly. “My name is Obi-Wan. I’m an…I’m an old friend of your mother’s.”

The little boy blinked, and glanced over at his sister, who was still eyeing him warily, then took a step closer, tugging her along with him as he refused to let go of her hand.

“I’m Luke,” he offered.

“Hello, Luke,” he said, and smiled, though his heart was breaking; seeing the shape of Anakin’s eyes; Padme’s cheekbones; even in such a small and barely grown face. “Is this your sister?”

“Uh-huh,” Luke said.

“I’m Leia,” she supplied. “How come you know Mama and we never met you?”

“I’ve been...travelling for a while,” he said. “Far away. But I’ve come to visit, and I’m hoping that we can all be friends again.”

“Mama’s back at the house,” Luke said. “‘Cause Auntie Cera said we had to go out the secret door, and then Mama said she’d meet us but she hasn’t yet.”

“She will,” Leia said, confident. “‘Cause she’s  _ Mama.” _

Auntie Cera--one of the handmaidens, he assumed, though he had no clue as to which one. “I’m sure she will,” he said. “But for now, you should do exactly as she said. Is there someplace special you’re supposed to go after the secret door?”

“We’re not s’posed to talk about it,” Leia said.

“Of course not,” Obi-Wan said. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay,” Luke said, reaching over to pat his arm reassuringly.

Obi-Wan couldn’t even  _ begin _ to name the burst of raw  _ feeling _ that swirled through him at that. “Thank you,” he managed to get out, bowing slightly; falling back on old habits of courtesy and behavior to hold himself together. “For your understanding.”

Ahsoka, perhaps sensing the storm inside him, extracted herself from the droids and came over to them.

“Right,” he said. “Luke, Leia, this is Ahsoka. She’s...she’s my sister.” Depending on what Padme had told the children and how much they had to decode ‘old friend’ later, that was probably the safest answer.

Also, of course,  _ true,  _ which made it better.

Luke blinked. “You don’t look like his sister.”

“I’m adopted,” she said, easily, sitting down on the ground to join them. “Do you know what that means?”

He shook his head.

“It means that I wasn’t  _ born _ as his sister, but we found each other later and chose each other as family.”

“Whoa.”

“That’s cool,” Leia said. “...you’re really pretty.”

Ahsoka laughed. “So are you,” she said. “I like your braids.”

“Braids are cool,” Leia agreed, then frowned at Obi-Wan. “You don’t got enough hair for ‘em, though.”

“I know,” he said. “It’s terrible, isn’t it.”

She pondered that. “...it’s okay,” she decided. “‘Cause you got a beard instead.”

Luke nodded solemnly beside her.

But before he could respond--or any of them could say anything else--there was a faint not-quite-boom from the town; Obi-Wan was on his feet an instant later; he could see a faint plume of smoke curling up above the trees.

“Ahsoka--” he said.

She took in the situation, and the children, at a glance, then nodded.

“Wait as long as you feel is safe,” he said. “I trust your judgment. And then…look after them.”

“I will,” she said. “I promise.”

He smiled, then bent down one more time. Luke accepted a hug; Leia hesitated a moment, then joined her brother and Obi-Wan held them for as long as he dared; hoping this wouldn’t be the first and  _ only _ time; then stood again. “May the Force be with you,” he said.

Ahsoka nodded. “You too,” she said.

He wasn’t sure how much the children understood, but then, “Bye,” Leia said, reaching for her brother’s hand again.

“Be well,” he said, offering them a smile that he hoped wasn’t too tense, and then, before he could change his mind or find another reason to delay, he turned towards the town and took off running.


	28. Part 4, Chapter 8: Padme

Padme had been maybe halfway to the square when she’d heard the second explosion.

Up until that point, she’d been smart about it--taking the long way around, moving as slowly as she dared; doing everything she could to stay hidden and maintain her one advantage: none of the stormtroopers knew she was coming.

It wasn’t what she’d  _ wanted. _ She’d  _ wanted  _ to head straight for the Blackbird; true, there was a decent chance that Sabe had set off that first explosion on purpose, to cover her escape, and she wasn’t there anymore. But it was the best place to start looking.

Besides, the stormtroopers had been out in force by the time she’d gotten away from Magan; moving from their usual posts in the base and the port in the general direction of the bar, which meant that, if she’d gotten clear, Sabe would need backup. And if she hadn’t…

Yeah. Everything in Padme had screamed to throw caution to the wind and  _ run _ to help her friend, no matter who might see.

But getting caught and detained again would solve absolutely nothing. So, she’d skulked towards the square the long way around, moving from alley to alley keeping an eye and an ear out for patrols and lurking in doorways whenever one passed, holding her breath and hoping they didn’t turn her way.

She thought, as she climbed over a fence at the halfway point, that the  _ smart _ thing to do would’ve been to grab a comm off Magan or one of the dead troopers. It would’ve helped her stay one step ahead.

Too late now.

She’d just landed on the other side when she heard the  _ second _ bang, and saw a fresh plume of smoke or dust drifting up from the square.

_ No! _

Padme bolted towards the end of the alley; the main road leading to the square; all thoughts of caution and self-preservation flying on the wings of that explosion, because if Sabe was still  _ in there-- _

\--she saw the stormtroopers rounding the corner and her brain caught up with the rest of her; she skidded to a halt and tried to backtrack, heading for cover; just a  _ second _ too late.

“You there!” the squad captain said. “Halt!”

There was no chance of talking her way out of this one. Even if they  _ didn’t  _ have her on record as a person of interest to be detained and questioned, she’d been running towards them, holding an illegal, unlicensed blaster in plain view, and bolted upon getting caught.

She fired two shots in their general direction, and then dove behind a dumpster, hoping it would hold up long enough for her to come up with  _ some _ kind of plan. A  _ lot _ of open ground between her and the fence; there was a fire escape above her but without someone covering her, she’d never make it.

The troopers lost no time in returning fire; the dumpster shook with the impact of the first half-dozen shots; she had less time than she’d hoped.

No windows she could shoot through, not on this level; no basement door within range. The fire escape and the fence were her only options.

She risked another look around the side of the dumpster, to see exactly what she was up against. The soldiers had blocked off the alley completely, but at least they didn’t have any heavy guns. Just their standard-issue blasters.

She had a chance.

She fired another shot to keep them from advancing too quickly, and retreated to weigh the odds.

_ If I make it to the fence, I  _ might _ be able to lose them in the alleys back here. Of course, there’s a decent chance that at least one of them knows the area at least as well as I do, and if I get trapped again, I won’t get so lucky. _

_ If I go up, I don’t have to go  _ all _ the way up. Just far enough to reach a window, that’ll get me out of immediate danger. …and also leave me  _ trapped _ in there, with who the hell knows how many civilians with me. I am  _ not _ taking hostages here, even by accident. _

_ If I go all the way up--no, I don’t need Threepio to tell me the odds of  _ that _ one. They’ll kill or stun me before I get halfway to the roof. _

The fence was the lesser of two bad choices.

The dumpster rattled again, and she could feel it starting to heat up beside her.

_ Now or never, _ she thought.

She shifted position, to give herself the best leverage she could, and then jumped for it.

Immediately, she heard a change in the frequency of the bolts fired in her direction, a change in the sound as they stopped hitting the dumpster; something skidded across the pavement behind her and she smelled singed fabric but didn’t feel any pain.

She reached the fence and scrambled to climb it; and still nothing _hit_ her which was weird; stormtroopers didn’t have the _best_ aim in the galaxy, but she was _right there;_ _something_ should have hit her.

She paused when she reached the top of the fence; to fire back and buy herself a little time and maybe risk a glance behind her to see what was--

For a split second, she forgot how to breathe.

Because there was someone between her and the troopers, and even with his back to her, she  _ knew-- _

He had a Mandalorian-style blaster along with his lightsaber, but that was--that was--

_ Impossible. I got hit, I must have gotten hit, I’m--I’m bleeding out in the alley and this is some kind of dying hallucination, my brain giving me what I most want to see right now, or second-most, really, since it’s not  _ both _ of them-- _

“Go!” Anakin called, the painfully familiar voice cutting through the shock.  _ “Go, _ I’ll be right behind you!”

Hallucination or not, that was probably the smart thing to do.

But she couldn’t just  _ leave _ him there.

She dropped behind the fence but stopped running; she positioned herself to one side and fired at the troopers through it to cover  _ his _ escape, the way he’d covered hers.

He didn’t keep her waiting long; seconds later, he vaulted over the fence and dove in her direction, pushing her around the corner of the closer building; wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and shielding her from a small explosion in the alley behind them.

His…his heartbeat in her ear was a little fast, a little frantic, and very,  _ very _ real.

After a couple seconds, he relaxed his grip and pulled back just a little, which gave her room to shift position and look up at him-- _ properly _ look at him.

He wasn’t  _ exactly _ as she remembered; there were lines and shadows around his eyes that hadn’t been there the last time she’d seen him, but it had been  _ four years, _ and the hell he’d lived through was…was…unimaginable.

But underneath all of that, she  _ knew _ him, as well as she knew herself.

She reached up with one trembling hand and rested it, gently, against his cheek. He leaned into it, eyes drifting half-shut.

_ “Ani,” _ she breathed, then flung her arms around him and clung as tightly as she could; half-afraid that, if she dared to let go, he would disappear again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, clinging back just as tight, leaning his head against hers. “I’m sorry, I came--as soon as I heard you, I came, it…it just took me a while to find you, I’m so, so sorry…”

_ As soon as--oh. _

All this time, she’d been worried someone would be able to track her down through Redbird, and now that it had actually  _ happened, _ she was _ so relieved. _

“Don’t be,” she said, relaxing her grip just enough to get space to kiss him, softly. “Don’t be, you’re alive, you’re here, you’re--you’re  _ here.” _

He nodded; there was something damp and shining along the side of his face, and she wasn’t sure if he was crying or she was, or both.

Probably both.

“I missed you,” he said. “I have--I have so much to  _ tell _ you, and--”

He cut himself off, a split second before she heard someone moving on the other side of the fence.

“…but we need to get clear first,” he said. He stood up, offering her a hand, which she accepted, letting him pull her up in turn; he stayed on the outer edge of the wall, between her and whatever troopers were finding  _ their _ feet.

“Right,” she said, then, remembering how she’d ended up getting trapped in that alley in the  _ first  _ place, “--no, no, we can’t leave yet.”

“Padme--”

“Sabe,” she said. “Sabe’s back at--we have a cantina, she’s probably still there, I can’t leave without her.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “We already got her.”

Her heart skipped a beat, because  _ we _ might mean--

\--no. No, if he and Obi-Wan were…if they’d escaped together, if they’d come here for her  _ together, _ Anakin would’ve said. Right away.

Anakin must’ve guessed where her thoughts were going. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “We--we got separated, I couldn’t…”

She just nodded, and squeezed his hand.

There was another noise from the other side of the fence; the troopers would be on them any second.

“We’ll talk about it later,” she said. “But Sabe--”

“Caleb’s with her,” he said. “My...my new apprentice. I…we ran into each other, a couple years back, he’s…he was Depa Billaba’s Padawan, and we stuck together. I trust him, absolutely, and Sabe’s with him.”

And if Anakin trusted Caleb, that was good enough for her.

“I told him to get her to our ship, and wait fifteen minutes,” Anakin went on. “I don’t think we’ll make it in time, but if we can get to the port, we can steal a ship, I can get us out of here that way. Okay?”

She nodded. “Okay,” she said. She checked her blaster one last time, then, reluctantly, let go of his hand. Better for both of them to have both hands free to fight. “Follow me.”


	29. Part 4, Chapter 9: Obi-Wan

Like a nocturnal insect to the nearest light source, Obi-Wan found himself drawn towards that column of smoke and dust still lazily climbing toward the sky.

It led him, not to the base or the center of town, but to a square not far from the spaceport, absolutely crawling with stormtroopers. He crept up a fire escape to a rooftop on the edge to get a better view of the situation.

There was a single downed building on the opposite side of the square; though the buildings on either side were slightly singed. It came as no surprise that the troopers were mostly focused on the collapsed building--given its location, probably some kind of cantina.

He closed his eyes and sank into the Force briefly; but he couldn’t sense anyone alive in the rubble.

That could mean any of several things, some better than others; but staying to investigate would only get him caught and arrested and solve nothing.

So, he opened his eyes again and scanned the warren of winding streets and alleyways spreading out from the square--

\--and caught sight of the distinctive golden flare of a Mandalorian blaster.

And, despite the fact that Padme had only very loose ties to Mandalore, Obi-Wan knew that was exactly where he needed to start.

She was there. How or why, he was unsure, but he  _ knew. _ If he followed that golden light, he would find her.

The question then became, of course, how to  _ get _ to her, through a not-insubstantial force of stormtroopers on high alert, in an area he was almost entirely unfamiliar with.

_ Best to stay up on the roofs, _ he decided. The view from the high ground would help keep him from getting lost, and he could trust in the Force to help him find cover and misdirect anyone he failed to evade. Especially since the troopers had no reason to be looking for him  _ specifically. _

He turned back towards the golden light, waiting for it to flare again--there it was, a block or so away from the first place he’d spotted it, giving him a reasonable idea of the direction they were heading. He picked his path across the rooftops, aiming for an intercept point at an angle to their current location, and began to move.

The advantage to the rooftop path became clearer and clearer as he moved; he caught sight of four more distinctive muzzle flares, and was able to adjust his path accordingly.

He made it three minutes, leaping from roof to roof, before he heard a commotion beneath him and swore under his breath.

He’d been spotted.

The smart thing to do, now that stealth was no longer an option, was to attempt to  _ keep  _ their attention and move off in a different direction, in an effort to draw at least some of the troops away from the unknown Mandalorian.

Then again, the Force shivered at the thought, and he _ knew, _ as surely as he knew his own name, that that was the exact  _ wrong _ thing to do.

Which left him with really only one choice: continue on his current path, crash into the Mandalorian, and hope that the confusion shifted the balance of the conflict in their favor.

And Padme’s.

Mind made up, he activated his ‘saber and sprinted across the rooftop, ducking and weaving and deflecting on instinct; he reached the final rooftop and rolled to disperse his momentum; he took what cover he could and stole a glance down into the alley below.

There was Padme, as he’d hoped. His heart  _ soared _ at the sight; she was--she was there, and alive, and achingly real, as fierce and beautiful as he remembered. She was slightly out of breath, a few strands of hair had escaped her unusually simple bun and there was a scrape along one cheekbone, but she seemed otherwise unhurt, and there was that familiar aura of  _ fire  _ surrounding her as she lined up her shots with deadly precision.

And  _ beside _ her…

He could hardly credit the evidence of his own eyes; except for the Force singing around him, as golden as the flash from that Mandalorian blaster.

Not a ghost. Not a dream.

That was  _ Anakin;  _ blaster in one hand and ‘saber in the other, covering Padme’s retreat; his passion and determination rising to match their lover’s as he constantly shifted, positioning himself between her and any danger, just as he always had; there were a few alarmingly fresh blaster burns on his tunic, but none placed in a way that indicated a serious injury underneath.

_ How did I not--how did I  _ miss _ that he was here? _

A shot from below, coming perilously close to his shoulder, reminded Obi-Wan that he had  _ far _ more pressing concerns.

_ Change the pace of the fight; then we can all get up to the roof and from there break pursuit; if the base hasn’t sent out air support yet it’s because they don’t have it or are not planning to unleash it on a civilian population. _

Decision made, he shifted into a crouch and launched himself in a smooth arc, curling into a somersault at the peak of his pass and landing on Padme’s other side, covering the gaps in her and Anakin’s defenses.

Neither of them reacted right away--not overtly, not  _ consciously; _ but it seemed almost a reflex as they shifted to accommodate him; like First Geonosis, or the  _ Malevolence, _ or any of the other times the three of them had ended up in combat together.

For a moment, there was that seamless sense of  _ togetherness; _ filling a hole that had been aching inside him for four long years.

And then Anakin glanced over at him; his eyes widened and his mouth moved, but no sound came out; he’d lost focus on the fight around him; Obi-Wan didn’t waste breath on a warning, just reached out and tugged Anakin’s sleeve, pulling him aside just seconds before a blaster bolt went right through his head.

It was Padme’s turn to gape at him. “Obi-Wan?” she breathed.

There were so many things he wanted to say, if only there had been time or space. He let go of Anakin’s arm to squeeze her hand lightly.

“I’m here,” he said. “We need to move.”

Anakin shook his head as if to clear it, deflected another bolt; shifted to shield Padme as always. “The roof?”

“Yes.”

Padme looked up, frowning.

“I’ll boost you,” Obi-Wan said. “Then we’ll follow.”

All doubt left her face and she nodded once, jaw set.

“Brace yourself,” he said and, trusting Anakin to cover them, closed his eyes and sank into the Force, launching Padme up onto the roof he’d just vacated.

A maneuver he’d done hundreds of times with Anakin, during the War, and at least as many more recently with Ahsoka--but this was the first he’d tried with Padme, and for a moment, he held his breath, until he felt her safe landing. Almost immediately, she began firing down into the troopers.

“Follow me,” he called to Anakin, and then leapt after her; a split second later, he heard his erstwhile apprentice’s boots hit the duracrete roof.

And then it was as if time stopped; the three of them, on that rooftop, half-sheltered by a half-meter railing, weary and battered from too many years spent too far away, but there. Together. Real and alive, and…

One hand still loosely held his lightsaber; with the other, he reached out, silently, and in an instant they were  _ there, _ close enough for him to feel their warmth, their heartbeats; the curve of Padme’s cheek nestled into his shoulder; the too-hard, too-tight grip of Anakin’s prosthetic pressed against his ribs, a minor discomfort that he welcomed with an almost giddy relief.

These were things he was so certain he had lost forever.

He bowed his head, eyes closed, trying not to weep because once he started, it would be very, very hard to stop.

“I am...I am so very glad I found you,” he said; his voice broke a little, despite his best efforts.

“Yes,” Anakin said; there were no other words.

Padme let out a soft, shuddering, wordless breath.

But the moment couldn’t last, and he reluctantly pulled back.

“What now?” Padme said.

“The port?” Anakin said. “We were heading that way. To steal a ship.”

“I have one, outside of town,” Obi-Wan said. “Do you think we can make it that far?”

“The three of us, together?” he said. “Just let them  _ try _ to stop us.”

Padme laughed a little at that, a giddy sound that was halfway to a sob, then kissed first Anakin, then Obi-Wan, very quickly.

_ I’ve just found you. I am  _ not _ going to lose you again. And the longer we wait here... _

Still, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but take a moment to bask in that feeling, in this reunion, his optimism growing with every heartbeat. “Then let’s get on with it.”

“Yes,” she said, giving him a sharp smile; the look on Anakin’s face drove the sun to shame.

And, for the first time in four long years, the three of them moved as one.


	30. Part 4, Chapter 10: Anakin

The rest of their flight across Amyr and through the woods outside went by in a blur of running and fighting and shooting and being shot at, buffered by the presence of Padme and Obi-Wan at his side.

Anakin wasn’t totally sure he wasn’t dreaming, but he decided he didn’t care. Not while it lasted. It was so rare that his dreams were this  _ good; _ he might as well surrender to it just as fully as he had to the paranoia and the nightmares in the old days.

But they made it--they  _ made it _ \--reaching Obi-Wan’s ship just at sunset; a quick code transmitted from Obi-Wan’s comm deactivated the distortion field it was hiding under and lowered the ramp.

When Anakin’s feet hit the deck, he could’ve started crying again; a faint but  _ recent _ trace of Ahsoka’s presence overlaid the whole place.

But he had a job to do. He headed straight for the cockpit, Padme hard on his heels and Obi-Wan half a step behind her.

He slid into the pilot’s seat and skimmed the console for any surprises. Ahsoka had modified things, of course, but he knew her style and it only took him a few seconds to figure out the most important controls and, less than a minute later, they were in the air.

“Fighters, coming out of the base,” Obi-Wan said, strapping himself into the copilot’s seat.

“I see them.” He flipped a few switches, found the shields on the second try and fed as much power to them as he could afford without sacrificing speed. “Padme?”

“On it.” He heard the sound of a piece of the floor plating scraping aside; then a few seconds later came the distinctive vibration beneath his seat of a ventral cannon firing.

Anakin dodged just in time; felt the impact as a blast grazed the edges of their shields; then shifted into a steep climb, aiming the belly of the ship towards the base to give Padme the clearest shot he could.

Beside him, Obi-Wan put all his attention into the navicomputer.

“Ten seconds,” Anakin warned, as he jerked the yoke to one side to avoid another blast, still keeping most of his momentum pushing up and away from the surface.

“Copy,” Obi-Wan replied; then, right on cue, just as they broke atmosphere, “and set. Go!”

He pulled the lever and the stars elongated around them and swirled into mist.

They were clear.

They had  _ made it. _

Anakin slumped a little in his seat, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding; ignoring a faint twinge from his left shoulder as it hit the back.

“Another happy landing,” Obi-Wan mused from beside him.

Anakin blinked and looked over at him, saw him  _ smiling, _ tired and teasing and relieved and…

He felt himself flushing a little, but mostly he just smiled back; would’ve kissed him, except the floor panel moved again.

Obi-Wan unstrapped himself and went to offer Padme a hand up. Figuring the autopilot could take it from there, Anakin followed suit, claiming a free hand from each of his lovers, and the three of them just--sat there, in a slightly awkward circle around the trapdoor; Padme’s legs dangling over the edge; drinking in the wonder of the moment and the sheer  _ joy _ of being together again, now without the urgency of combat pressing in around them.

And it...and it wasn’t fading with the adrenaline.

It was starting to sink in. To feel  _ real. _

They were  _ here. _ They were  _ together _ again.

Anakin started to speak, wanted to  _ say _ something of everything inside, the love and the relief and the guilt for losing them in the first place, but where would he even  _ start? _

So he did what he often did, when it was all too much and he didn’t have the words. He acted instead.

He leaned across the open gunwell and kissed each of them in turn; first Obi-Wan, then Padme. “Love you,” he managed to get out. “Love you both  _ so much, _ I…”

Padme laughed a little, and picked up his hand, and Obi-Wan’s, and pressed a soft kiss against each. “I feel like I’ve spent...spent so much time  _ crying _ today, which is  _ ridiculous _ because you’re  _ here.” _

“We are,” Obi-Wan said, squeezing each of their hands in reassurance. “We’re all here, we’re together now, we’re...is everyone all right?” he asked. “Perhaps we should start there. Somewhere simple.”

“Right,” Padme said. She wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, which, since she didn’t seem to want to let go of Anakin’s hand--not that he was objecting--was a little awkward. “I’m fine. I think I’ll be feeling some bruises tomorrow, but I’m okay. You?”

“The same,” Obi-Wan said.

Another wave of relief hit Anakin like a tank, and he almost nodded, because why spoil the moment, but his shoulder twinged reproachfully; and he knew, from experience, that Padme and Obi-Wan would just be more upset later if he held back. “I think I might’ve gotten hit,” he admitted.

Padme’s hand tightened a little on his, and Obi-Wan frowned faintly. “Let me take a look,” he said. Which meant letting go of their hands, which Anakin did  _ not _ like.

But Padme scooted closer on his other side, leaning her head against his uninjured shoulder; and Obi-Wan was right behind him, hands warm and gentle as they pulled his tunic aside to check the burn underneath.

“Just a graze,” Obi-Wan said, audibly relieved. He leaned forward just a little, and kissed Anakin’s cheek softly. “Let me get my kit, I’ll clean it.”

Half on instinct, Anakin reached up and caught his sleeve.

“I’ll only be a moment,” Obi-Wan promised.

Padme leaned over and gently took Anakin’s wrist, pulling his hand back into his lap.

“Just a moment,” Obi-Wan repeated, and then turned and left the cockpit, taking longer, faster steps than were probably strictly necessary.

Anakin took a deep breath and let it out slowly, leaning his head against Padme’s.

“I don’t want to let him out of my sight, either,” she admitted.

He blinked, then laughed a little. “It’s stupid,” he said. “This ship isn’t  _ that _ big, and…”

“Right?” she said, and then  _ she _ started giggling, and--

Okay, it was probably better than crying, and probably came from the same thing, from it being a very long day full of so much  _ feeling, _ but that just set  _ him _ off again.

And that was how Obi-Wan found them, less than a minute after he’d left. He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what I missed, but…”

“We’re...we’re both ridiculous, that’s all,” Padme said, when she caught her breath, kissing Anakin’s cheek, then getting up to kiss Obi-Wan as well.

“Hm,” he said. But he smiled, that warm, soft smile that made Anakin ache inside; kissed Padme back, then knelt behind Anakin again. “Hold still, this might sting.”

“Yeah, I know,” Anakin said.

“And you wonder why we worry,” Padme said, as she settled next to him again, threading her fingers through his.

“Mm,” he said; he wanted nothing more than to lean against her again, but held still for Obi-Wan instead. “Well, you’ll have more opportunities in the future, I’m sure.”

_ “Anakin.” _ She sounded vaguely horrified, and he realized what he’d actually  _ said, _ and flushed.

“I meant--I mean, you know me,” he said. “And...and I  _ meant... _ it’ll probably...we still have to...I just  _ meant, _ we’ll have...time. In the future. Lots of time. For you to worry about me. Or...I’m just digging myself in deeper, aren’t I. Ow!”

“Sorry,” Obi-Wan said. “Almost done. And...I rather hope we’ll find better ways to spend our time. Than...than worrying about one another.”

“Me, too,” Padme said.

“Okay,” Anakin said.

“But you  _ were  _ right about one thing,” Obi-Wan said, as he set the disinfectant aside and taped a bandage into place. “We have...we have  _ time _ now.”

“We do,” he said.

“We do,” Padme echoed, her voice full of wonder; Anakin turned to kiss her again.

When Obi-Wan sat back down next to him, Anakin kissed him, too, then tugged at his collar, pulling him to lie down instead, half-across the two of them. Short of moving to somewhere a little less awkward than the edge of the gunwell, it was the closest the three of them could  _ get _ right now.

Even though Anakin hadn’t really expected it, he was pleased when Obi-Wan offered approximately zero resistance.

Padme smiled, and ran her free hand through Obi-Wan’s hair--she had always liked doing that; playing with either his hair or Anakin’s, when they were curled up close like this. Obi-Wan’s eyes drifted shut; he leaned into her hand just a little bit, and Anakin felt him relax.

“...what now?” Padme asked, after a moment. “Where are we even  _ going?” _

“About five systems away,” Obi-Wan said, without moving or opening his eyes.

Which meant they’d probably be dropping out of hyperspace before  _ too _ much longer, but Anakin decided not to move until the navicomputer beeped at him.

“I figured that was a long enough jump to dodge pursuit and regroup,” he continued. “That’s what Ahsoka and I usually do.”

Padme sat up straighter. “Y--Ahsoka’s alive? She’s with you?”

“I  _ knew _ I felt her,” Anakin said, at almost the same moment.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said. “She’s with--we ran into the droids and the children on our way into town and--”

“Wait,” Anakin said. “Children?”

All at once, that question he’d refused to ask himself ever since he and Caleb had first listened to her together, four months ago...it all came rushing back.

_ “Something wonderful has happened.” _

Padme stopped finger-combing Obi-Wan’s hair and held up two fingers. “Twins,” she said. “I had twins. We have...we have twins.”

“Twins,” he breathed. It wasn’t the  _ most _ impossible thing that had happened today, but at the same time--

“Twins,” Obi-Wan echoed, with a wistful hint of relief and regret and love that echoed everything spilling out of Anakin at the thought. “I didn’t...we only had a few moments but they’re...they’re wonderful.”

“Of course they are,” he managed to say. “They’re  _ ours.” _

“You’ll meet them soon,” Padme promised. “Artoo knows where to go, we...we had a plan.”

“Yeah, Sabe said.”

“Right,” Padme said. “She’ll know where to go, too, so it’s probably better to meet there. Right?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I’ll confirm with Ahsoka,” he added. He made no move to get up to do so, but--well, probably waiting ‘til they stopped to reset their course was better anyway.

Anakin very much approved of this plan.

“And I’ll contact Caleb when we drop out of hyperspace,” Anakin said. “Tell him to listen to Sabe, go where she tells him.”

“Caleb?” Obi-Wan asked, one eye drifting open.

“Yeah,” Anakin said. “New apprentice. He’s...a lot has happened. I’m not sure where to start. And I’m sure...I’m sure the two of you have stories to tell, too, but...”

“You can go first,” Obi-Wan decided, as he settled back again. “And...you could start at the beginning, I suppose. But take your time.” He smiled a little. “We have that now.”

“We do,” he agreed; and even if the beginning meant--even if the beginning was hard, it was over now. They were together. He felt Padme squeeze his hand lightly, and Obi-Wan’s warm weight across his lap.

He took a breath, and began.


	31. Coda

It took them about twelve hours to reach Padme and Sabe's rendezvous point. Anakin didn’t think they’d said  _ everything _ they’d needed to, but…

In all honesty, the three of them hadn’t needed very many words at all. Each of them had given at least a short version of what they’d been through the past four years--though Anakin had definitely skimmed over some of the harder parts, and he was pretty sure the others had, too.

But it didn’t really matter. The details would come later. Beyond that, just...just  _ being _ together was enough.

More than he’d ever  _ dreamed _ he’d get to see again.

At long last, they dropped out of hyperspace, floating over a swirling grey-green planet. Mostly ocean, based on the topography scanner, but dotted with a few islands. And from one of them, right away, came a transmission, masked by one of Artoo’s familiar encryptions.

Anakin grinned; Obi-Wan, half-asleep in the copilot’s chair, came fully awake with a startled jerk, and Padme came running in from the galley.

“We made it?” she said.

“We did,” he confirmed, then flipped the switch to accept the transmission.

The hologram was small and a little bit grainy, but that was definitely Ahsoka’s face, older but still familiar, that materialized above the dash.

She didn’t say anything right away, taking in the sight of the three of them clustered together, then blinked twice and grinned at them. “Good to see you.”

“You, too, Snips,” he said.

“You have no idea,” Padme agreed.

There was another beat--another moment of just-too-much where none of them quite knew what to say--and then Ahsoka’s smile turned a little sharper, teasing. “Well, I  _ was _ gonna talk you through some of my mods to the landing gear, guide you down, but…”

He laughed, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I think I’ve got this.”

“Yeah,” she said.

“Is everyone there all right?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Yep,” she said. “Caleb and Sabe got in about an hour ago.”

“They’re both okay?” Padme said. “Anakin said Sabe was hurt.”

“Broken leg was the worst of it,” Ahsoka said. “But your ship had a scanner, and my kit had everything else we needed, so we got it set and everything. She’s still sedated and Threepio is fussing over her. Caleb’s playing with the twins. I think they own him now, sorry, Skyguy.”

He laughed; her old nickname for him settling over him like a warm blanket. “Oh, you’d better be taking pictures.”

“I mean, obviously, but you’ll see it soon enough.”

“True,” he said. “...so I should probably actually land, shouldn’t I.”

Padme, beside him, giggled and Obi-Wan just sighed.

“Might help, yeah,” Ahsoka said, giving him her best innocent-helpful-Padawan expression.

Not quite like old times, because it looked different on her slightly longer, sharper adult face, but enough. Warm and familiar, just like the names. Just like the teasing.

“We’ll see you shortly,” he said.

“Can’t wait,” she said, with absolute sincerity, then gave a half-mocking, two-fingered salute, one more pointy grin, and cut the transmission.

“We’re almost home,” Padme said, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“After all this time,” Obi-Wan agreed.

“...yeah,” he said, softly, then turned his intention to piloting, because, really, after all of that, it would be so embarrassing if he screwed up  _ this _ landing, with Ahsoka and Caleb and his  _ children _ watching.

His  _ children. _

It was--strange. It was like, with that thought, that voice in the back of his head, the one that had never quite gone away-- _ come home, come home, come home _ \--right now, it barely even  _ registered. _ For a moment, he had almost forgotten it was there.

_ come home, come home, come home. _

And, yeah, maybe he hadn’t  _ entirely _ broken free of that voice and that guilt and everything it meant, and maybe he never would, but that  _ pull, _ that piece of him that almost,  _ almost _ wanted to reach back,  _ had _ gone silent.

For good.

Because Padme and Obi-Wan were right. Everything he wanted, everything he loved--it was surrounding him, or waiting for him down on the planet below.

The truth was, he didn’t  _ need _ to follow that voice home.

He was already there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is a wrap! The family is all together now and they'll sort things out and take down the Empire in time, I'm sure :) Thank you all for coming along on this journey and sticking with me this far, this was a lot of fun to put together. And thank you again to corde_and_dorme for betaing and jahaliel for the truly excellent art.
> 
> See y'all next time! ~shadowsong


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